Black Mesa
by Vulture
Summary: There have been many attempts to novelize the story behind Half-Life. The approach of its sequel has inspired me to chronicle its story in my own style, with enough twists and turns to make the story more than a simple walkthrough. (COMPLETE)
1. Black Mesa Inbound

**Black Mesa**

**By Patrick Williams**

Based on the storyline from Half-Life, a game from Valve Software and Sierra Studios. The Half-Life franchise is the property of Sierra Studios. All rights are reserved to Sierra Studios.

**Chapter 1 – Black Mesa Inbound**

**Santego**** Military Base - Santego, Arizona**

**Containment Failure -02:30:00**

The reveille sounded out across the expanse of low, concrete structures. In the barracks, troops arose from their heavy slumber to the dawn of a new day of "being all they could be" in the Army. The troops were well-disciplined and required no further motivation than the sound of the distant bugle to jump out of bed and prepare for duty. They moved with determination and poise, as they had been training for weeks to prepare for this day. The day would bring the first genuine combat operation on America's soil since the Civil War.

From the command bunker, Major General Robert J. Thompson supervised the troops going about their morning routines. From his office atop the command bunker he could oversee most of the compound. He watched, approvingly, as his troops prepared for what promised to be a monumental day.

His intercom buzzed, and the voice of a lieutenant from the front desk announced, "Sir, the visitor you expected is coming up."

Thompson nodded, deep in thought. Things were about to get interesting.

He heard two crisp knocks at his door as the M.P. outside opened the door without further announcement. The M.P. would think nothing of the pale man in the black suit meeting with his commanding officer on the day of a major military operation. He was trained not to notice what went on right under his nose, while being constantly alert in case anything unforeseen happened.

"Hello, Mister Thompson," the visitor spoke, his slick voice sending shivers up Thompson's spine. The visitor had a speech impediment that drew his "S" syllables out, making him sound even more like the snake that he was. His immaculate gray suit reflected the personality of the individual wearing it.

"I didn't earn these stars to be called 'Mister' by the likes of you, sir." Thompson retorted. He had taken an intense disliking to the man long before this meeting. He had no choice but to tolerate him, however. This man was the government representative appointed to supervise today's operation.

"Very well, General. I came to discuss some last minute details about today's operation. I sincerely hope, for your sake, that your men are prepared to do their duty."

Thompson couldn't put a finger on it, but he suddenly had a very bad feeling about this operation.

**Black Mesa Research Facility - Black Mesa, New Mexico**

**Subterranean Helipad** - **Containment Failure -01:15:00**

The man in the suit hopped off of the V-22 Osprey. The escorting AH-64 Apache attack helicopters continued to orbit the surrounding area as if they expected an attack upon the already heavily secured facility. Several soldiers fanned out around the helipad to secure the site.

He made his way through the maze-like passages leading towards Black Mesa Central Command, the beating heart of Black Mesa. From there, one could see anything going on in the complex. He had a brief appointment before the day's events unfolded. Satisfied that General Thompson's men were prepared to fulfill their mission, the man would be able to supervise every aspect of the operation from Central Command.

**Black Mesa Central Command** - **Containment Failure -01:00:00**

The control room was bristling with security monitors and equipment for controlling the day-to-day operations of a facility as massive as Black Mesa. Dozens of workers manned the computer stations arrayed about the room, but few of them were paying much attention to their work. They were too distracted by the heated argument in the administrator's office adjacent to the control room. A few minutes earlier Dr. Rosenberg had barged in shouting about an inevitable disaster.

Rosenberg was one of a few select scientists at Black Mesa with the clearance to know everything that went on within its walls. Most of what went on was a mystery even to its own employees. Rosenberg, however, knew every dirty secret; knew of every skeleton hidden in its closets. He had noticed that the Anomalous Materials test chamber was scheduled to perform a laser analysis of a sample of Xenite, a crystalline substance not native to this planet. How they had obtained the sample was another of those secrets that only a select few knew.

The analysis laser was used to perform Laser Induced Breakdown Spectroscopy. This technique required a high-powered laser to induce a bright spark, or plasma, on the surface of a material. The light from the plasma was analyzed by a spectrometer sensitive to a wide range of inorganic elements. From the spectrometer they could determine the elemental make-up of any material. The process allowed them to test new metals for use in armor-plating or weapons production. Occasionally, a sample of something unknown would pass through Anomalous Materials to determine if it could be useful. To all appearances, the Xenite analysis would be no different.

Rosenberg knew the truth, however. He knew that the Xenite sample was like no sample ever analyzed by the laser. Xenite reacted differently than any material of this planet. When exposed to high amounts of heat or energy, the sample would cause a series of unimaginable events. The results would be catastrophic, and felt far beyond the armored gates of Black Mesa.

Rosenberg had quickly explained the situation to Dr. Breen, the facility's administrator. Breen had hardly been receptive. The two had argued back and forth for several minutes by the time the visitor arrived. The man in the gray suit cleared his throat from the doorway to the office and stepped in, closing the door behind him. The workers manning their stations in the adjacent room shrugged and returned to their work.

Breen glanced nervously at the visitor and returned his attention to Rosenberg. "Who else have you told about your theory?"

"I came straight to you, Wallace. But it's not a theory; I've seen it happen before! We have to stop this analysis before it's too late."

"I suppose we could delay the analysis until we can verify your findings," Breen sighed resignedly. "You've done the right thing, of course, Dr. Rosenberg."

Rosenberg hadn't noticed the man in the suit slowly approaching him from behind. With a swift movement, the man swung his heavy suitcase in an arc that intersected with Rosenberg's head. The scientist fell to the ground, unconscious.

_That should put him under long enough to prevent him from interfering_, Breen thought approvingly.

"Are your arrangements complete?" Breen asked the visitor.

"You have nothing to worry about, Mister Breen. So long as you stay here, you will not be harmed. Everything will go according to plan."

Without another word, the man in the gray suit turned and left the office.

Breen pressed a button on his desk and spoke. "Please send a doctor to my office at once. Dr. Rosenberg has taken a terrible fall."

**Area 8 Topside Dormitories** - **Containment Failure -01:00:00**

Barney Calhoun wasn't your every day hero type.

He was a simple man living a simple life. At 23, he was trying to settle into a steady job to make a living. He had once hoped to join the Army. His father had convinced him, instead, to go to college and get a degree. After a few miserable months at a community college, Calhoun had realized that college was not for him. He had dropped out without a degree and taken the first job he could find.

Calhoun was a security guard at Black Mesa. His job was to protect and serve the employees of the research facility, using any means necessary. He enjoyed his work for the most part. The facility provided him not only a job and decent pay, but a place to live. All Black Mesa personnel were required to live on site, for security reasons. The land surrounding the base was a "shoot on sight" region and comings and goings were rare.

The Black Mesa Research Facility was buried deep below the New Mexico desert. The facility was an expansive series of subterranean laboratories and offices deep below the surface. It had once been a Cold War missile complex but was now used primarily for weapon research and development. What went on behind closed doors in the facility was extremely classified. The research facility required an experienced team of guards to protect its security and secrecy. Every laboratory and office had a series of security checkpoints to prevent unauthorized personnel from gaining access to privileged information or materials. Level 3 Security was one of many such checkpoints within the facility. Calhoun was due to report in for duty there. He checked his tie in the mirror on his way out the door and exited the dormitory.

The desert heat hit Calhoun like a wall of bricks. It was over 90 degrees outside already. His dormitory was on the surface, but it was kept at a comfortable 68 degrees at all times, like the rest of the facility. Calhoun still hadn't gotten used to the temperature differences. It would grow to well over 100 degrees before the day was done. Such was life at Black Mesa. Fortunately, Calhoun spent most of his day working inside the underground facility.

The dormitory complex was relatively quiet. Most employees were already down below, hard at work. The only sounds came from the warm desert wind and a helicopter hovering in the distance. Calhoun walked towards the transit station, where a tram was waiting. The tram left the station with a slight jolt and traveled down the line towards the gaping entrance to the underground facility.

Calhoun was greeted by a sultry female voice from the tram's speakers. He didn't know who did the voiceovers, but he wouldn't have minded buying her a drink or two.

"Good morning and welcome to the Black Mesa Transit System. This automated train is provided for the comfort and convenience of Black Mesa residents and visitors to the Black Mesa facility..."

**Level 3 Dormitories** - **Containment Failure -00:50:00**

Gordon Freeman awoke to the sudden realization that he had overslept. He didn't hear the distinctive sound of his alarm clock that normally accompanied his awakening. His alarm was supposed to have gone off at 7:30 so that he would have more than enough time to clock in before 8:30.

He hurriedly dressed, forgetting his tie on the rack. He wouldn't need it, anyway. He was going to be in the test chamber today – ten minutes ago, to be exact.

Gordon was an egghead at heart. He had gotten his PhD from M.I.T. in theoretical physics. The job at Black Mesa had appealed to him as it had offered the best salary of all his potential employers. On top of that, he had been promised a chance to work on some of the most revolutionary developments in physics. He saw his work at Black Mesa as his best chance to make a mark on the world. The work they were doing would change the world – if it ever saw the light of day. Freeman worked in the Anomalous Materials branch of the facility. His job was to use an elaborate and somewhat dangerous analysis laser to determine the atomic makeup of compounds. It wasn't the most exciting job in the world; certainly not work worthy of a PhD scientist. It was a start, however, and the future promised to be more exciting. His work was only the tip of the work done at the facility. Freeman didn't have enough clearance to know what the materials they analyzed were used for. It didn't take a PhD to realize that most of them would probably be used for classified weapons projects.

Gordon lived in the Level 3 dormitories, located three stories below the surface. His destination was the Anomalous Materials lab, many stories below that. The lab was one of the deepest points in the facility, located hundreds of feet below the surface just in case the elaborate laser should malfunction and cause a dangerous reaction. It somehow didn't comfort Gordon to think that should he mess up an analysis only he would be atomized by the explosion.

Gordon left his room and raced through the subterranean hallways towards the transit hub, hoping that there was a tram waiting for him. He was late enough as it was, and didn't have time to wait for a tram to come up from down below.

Fate had smiled on Gordon, as there was an empty tram waiting at the station. He stepped on board, and waited for the tram to leave the station. Something farther down the line was holding up the tram. Gordon looked down the tunnel and saw a security guard exiting the tram farther down the line. _Incompetent oafs_, Gordon grunted to himself. All security ever did was get in the way.

Finally, the tram started moving towards Sector C and the Anomalous Materials laboratories within.

"Good morning and welcome to the Black Mesa Transit System..."

**Sector C – Anomalous Materials Control Room - Containment Failure -00:45:00**

"Why hasn't the analysis begun?"

Dr. Breen's voice echoed throughout the control room. The voice held very little emotion, but the anger behind it was tangible, nonetheless. The administrator was speaking to them over the control room's intercom. The scientists present looked at each other nervously. Walter Bennett finally stepped forward to speak.

Walter Bennett was your stereotypical chemistry nerd. He had blown his eyebrows off while playing with a chemistry set at the age of 12 and had been hooked ever since. He had breezed through Berkeley and had become one of the world's premier chemists. Shortly after Black Mesa had been established, many years earlier, he had accepted an entry level position in materials analysis. He was now the head scientist at Anomalous Materials, and the oldest and most experienced to boot. He felt it was natural that he should speak for the assembled mass of scientists.

"Freeman was supposed to be in the chamber fifteen minutes ago. We don't know where he is. I'm sure that he's on his way down now."

"He had better be, if he values his job. It's vital that this experiment be completed according to our timetable. A conclusive analysis of this sample must be obtained as soon as possible."

"The analysis will proceed as planned as soon as Freeman gets here."

"Good. Contact me when the analysis begins."

The intercom switched off before anyone could reply.

Bennett wiped away the bead of sweat that had collected on his forehead. If anything went wrong with today's experiment, heads would roll.

**Level 3 Security Facilities** - **Containment Failure -0:43:00**

Calhoun's tram had finally reached Level 3 Security. Its rear entrance was an unceremonious metal doorway in the middle of a transit tunnel. He had disembarked from the tram which departed a few seconds later, leaving him stranded on the short metal walkway leading to Level 3 Security's back door. The walkway was poorly lit, and Calhoun needed his flashlight to find the security pass reader. He inserted his security pass and waited patiently for the reader to accept his ID. Nothing happened. He pounded on the door for all the good it would do him.

A voice came through the door from the other side. "Hold on a minute, the door's not responding to your pass ID."

Calhoun sighed in annoyance. Behind him, another tram passed by with a tie-less, haggard looking scientist onboard. The scientist glared at Calhoun, no doubt angry that he had held up his tram when he had arrived. Calhoun waved back, hoping the scientist would get in trouble for violating the facility's dress code.

"Okay, I think I got it!"

The metal door slid open, and Calhoun quickly walked through, lest it lock him out again. A fellow security guard stood there, pleased with himself for triumphing over the door.

"Sorry about that, Calhoun. We've been having problems all over the facility this morning; system crashes, security malfunctions. It's a wonder this whole place hasn't shut down yet."

"I'm just glad the tram line is working," Calhoun replied. "That's all I need; to be stuck in some tunnel."

"Just be glad you're not headed over to Sector C. There's a hazardous chemical spill in the transit tunnel, and the trams are backing up."

"I need to go check in. Thanks for getting me in. Catch me later and I'll buy you a beer."

Calhoun turned and walked towards the lobby's front desk. He needed to check in with the duty officer and find out where he would be posted today. In the process, he almost ran over an antsy scientist who obviously had somewhere to be in a hurry. Papers fluttered from the scientist's grasp.

"Watch where you're going, you nincompoop!" the scientist shouted angrily as he bent down to pick up the paper. Calhoun glanced at the scientist's I.D. and noted the scientist's name. Dr. Graham had a reputation as a prima donna, even by Black Mesa standards.

"Excuse me, sir." Calhoun apologized as he tried to help pick up the papers.

"Why do you security guards always insist on bothering us? Shouldn't you be guarding some donuts and coffee right about now?"

"I'll just be on my way, sir."

Calhoun had gotten used to the lack of respect shown to the security guards at Black Mesa. The scientists didn't appreciate the importance of security.

_If something bad ever happens to this place_, Calhoun thought to himself, _these scientists might finally appreciate having us around._

**Sector C Tram Line** - **Containment Failure -0:37:00**

This was all Gordon needed. The chemical spill had blocked the transit line and the maintenance bots were slow to get it out of the way. He had no choice but to wait while the bots patched the chemical leak.

He glanced around the tunnel and noticed another tram stopped by the maintenance bots. Its sole occupant was a pale-faced man in a slick-looking gray suit. The man was speaking into a phone and held a heavy-looking briefcase. He noticed Gordon's curious stare and for an eerie moment their glances met. Black Mesa's management was shrouded in secrecy and mystique. Since this was a government facility, most of them were government operatives. Gordon wasn't cleared to know much about what went on at that level.

Gordon had Level 3 clearance. That cleared him for all of the medium security areas of the facility. He had heard rumors of what went on in the high security areas. There were tales of strange experiments on unnatural creatures, tales of top secret weapons that make our military's arsenal look like rocks and sticks, and tales of fantastic technologies never before seen anywhere else. Gordon hoped to one day work his way up to Level 5, where the real science was done. For now, Gordon would be satisfied with getting to the laboratory as quickly as possible.

The maintenance bots seemed to mock him by slowing down further.

**Level 3 Security Facilities** - **Containment Failure -0:35:00**

"Nice of you to show up this morning, Calhoun," the duty officer chided from behind his expansive desk.

"Sorry, sir. There were some problems with the back door."

"Well, I hope you're ready for a long shift. Today is going to be a busy day."

"Just the way I like it, sir."

"Let's see where you're stationed today." The officer began typing on his computer, pulling up the day's duty roster. "Looks like you're stationed down in the Anomalous Materials laboratory in Sector C. But first, there's a problem with the main access lift in Sector G. We need you to go over there and see what you can do."

"I always knew we were nothing but armed gophers."

"You'd better believe it, Calhoun. See you later."

Calhoun made his way to the locker room and opened his personal locker. With the greatest care and respect he removed his starched uniform and sidearm. His sidearm was a lovingly maintained .357 Magnum. He checked the cylinder and verified that it was loaded. He holstered it and donned his body armor. He attached his security badge to his armor and headed off towards Sector G. He was off to save the world, one helpless scientist at a time.

**Sector C Test Labs and Control Facilities** - **Containment Failure -0:30:00**

"Please stand back from the automated door and wait for the security officer to verify your identity. Before exiting the train, be sure to check your area for personal belongings. Thank you, and have a safe and productive day."

Gordon's tram had finally arrived, as the female voice had so helpfully announced. The tram pulled alongside a long metal walkway suspended across the cavernous tunnel. The opposite end of the walkway led to a huge metal gate. This was the entrance to Sector C. As a security measure, Gordon's tram door remained shut until security could verify his identification. The guard on duty, Geoffrey Douglas, checked his ID badge and opened the tram door for him.

"Good morning, Mister Freeman. Looks like you're running a bit late today."

"You're observant as always." Freeman couldn't stand it when people forgot to call him by his proper title, 'Doctor.'

"Let's get you inside before I make you even later."

They walked down the metal walkway towards the tremendous gate. The guard typed in the appropriate access code into the keypad and the heavy metal gate unlocked with a deep mechanical groaning. Sector C was only a medium security zone, but it was still protected by two sets of explosion-proof metal gates; each of them foot-thick solid steel slabs. No one could get into Sector C without the security guard's authorization. Even if the guard on duty was forced to give up the code, there were more armed guards waiting beyond the doors. Black Mesa was about as secure as a research facility could get.

As the second metal gate slowly slid open, Gordon stepped into the lobby of Sector C. There was a single desk in the center of the room, with a guard monitoring the various cameras around the sector.

"Hey Mister Freeman, I had a bunch of messages for you but we had a system crash about twenty minutes ago and I'm still trying to find my files."

"Just one of those days, I guess," Gordon said glumly. He wasn't the only one having a bad day, apparently.

"They were having some problems in the test chamber, too, but I think that's all straightened out. They told me to have you head down there as soon as you got into your hazard suit."

A few scientists wandered and loitered throughout the lobby and the halls of Sector C. Most of them were chatting about the day's experiments. The first test was supposed to be an important one. Some new material had been given to them by the Level 5 laboratories to analyze. If the Level 5 laboratories were working on it, it had to be important.

From the speakers throughout the facility, the public address computer chimed in to make an announcement. "Doctor Freeman, report to the Anomalous Materials test lab immediately."

_ I must have really ticked someone off for them to use the public address system_, Gordon mused.

Gordon moved a bit faster now and soon arrived at the employee locker room. Behind the locker room was the H.E.V. storage room. The Hazardous Environment Vehicle was the suit used to conduct experiments in the test chamber. It protected one from any potential dangers that might arise. Needless to say, one wouldn't want to step into the test chamber without one.

There were three H.E.V. suit lockers in the storage room. Two of them were empty, probably being used by the scientists prepping the sample for experimentation. Gordon quickly put on the remaining suit and powered it up. The system ran through its normal preoperational checklists.

The Heads-Up Display switched on and displayed a status report in front of him. The H.U.D. would report any potential dangers to him as he worked. A female voice accompanied the status report.

"Welcome to the H.E.V. mark four protective system, for use in hazardous environment conditions… High Impact Reactive Armor – Online… Atmospheric Contaminant Sensors – Online… Vital Sign Monitoring – Online… Automatic Medical Systems – Online… Defensive Weapon Selection System – Online… Munitions Level Monitoring – Online… Communications Interface – Online… Have a very safe day."

Gordon had always felt that the suit was somewhat overkill. It seemed like it had been designed to go to war with, not to study chemical reactions. He had yet to use most of the suit's features, although he was fully trained in all of the suit's functions.

He hustled across Sector C towards the Anomalous Materials laboratory.

**Sector G – Main Access Lift** - **Containment Failure -0:25:00**

Calhoun approached the access lift, where a familiar face was waiting. It was the scientist from the Level 3 Security lobby, Dr. Graham.

"Well, it's about time," Graham grunted. "We don't pay you people to mosey around at your own convenience. Make this thing work, so I can get on with this miserable day."

Calhoun pried open the control panel, and the problem became apparent almost immediately. One of the panel's fuses had blown. It must have been one of those frequent power surges the facility experienced. Calhoun fumbled around in his toolkit for a spare fuse, and began working on the panel. Normally, it would have only taken a few seconds. For this scientist, he was willing to make an exception.

**Sector C – Anomalous Materials Control Room** - **Containment Failure -00:20:00**

Gordon entered the control room, where the scientists were impatiently waiting for him. The control room was full of computers and other equipment used to monitor the experiments carried out in the test chamber. One wall of the room featured a thick pane of glass that looked down upon the test chamber itself.

"Where the hell have you been, Gordon?" Dr. Bennett snapped at him.

"My alarm didn't go off. It won't happen again."

"It had better not. The administrator is personally interested in the results of this experiment. We just sent the sample down to the test chamber."

Another scientist chimed in, "I'm afraid we'll be deviating a bit from standard analysis procedures today, Gordon. We've boosted the anti-mass spectrometer to 105. It's a bit of a gamble, but for an experiment this important, we need the extra resolution."

"What's so important about this sample?" Gordon asked.

"They don't tell us Level 3 eggheads much of anything, Gordon." Walter spoke. "You know that. All I know for certain is that this is the purest sample of Xenite we've seen yet. I suppose they went to a lot of trouble to get this sample. We only get one shot at this."

From one side of the room, a scientist shouted, "It's about to go critical!"

One of their computers exploded in a shower of sparks. The scientist grabbed a fire extinguisher and doused the smoking computer in foam.

"What the hell is going on with our equipment?" Bennett growled at no one in particular.

"It wasn't meant to do this in the first place!" a shocked scientist replied.

"If we follow standard insertion procedure, everything should be fine." Bennett said, always the voice of reason when things went to hell. He was trying to reassure himself as much as the others present.

"I don't know how you can say that. Although, I must admit that while the chance of a resonance cascade scenario is extremely unlikely, I remain uncomfortable with the--"

"Gordon doesn't need to hear all this," Bennett interjected. "He's a highly trained professional. We've assured the administrator that nothing will go wrong."

"Ah yes, you're right. Gordon, we have complete confidence in you."

Gordon nodded at the collective scientists present, swallowed nervously, and used the lift at the opposite side of the control room to get into the test chamber.

**Black Mesa Central Command** - **Containment Failure -00:15:00**

Breen's mobile phone vibrated in its pocket. He took it out and listened. It was Walter Bennett, calling from Anomalous Materials.

"Freeman is entering the test chamber now, sir. We're beginning the analysis."

Breen returned the phone to its pocket and rested his chin on steepled fingers, deep in thought. His time here was almost done. Part of the agreement had been his safe passage out of Black Mesa as soon as the operation began.

**Sector C - Anomalous Materials Test Chamber** - **Containment Failure -0:10:00**

"Testing… testing… Everything seems to be in order."

Gordon looked about the cavernous test chamber as Bennett tested the chamber's intercom. His breathing echoed in his own ears through the suit's helmet. He hated working in this room and in this suit. The chamber was a huge hollowed-out missile silo full of laser equipment. The tremendous analysis laser dominated the chamber, dangling precariously from the ceiling like a gigantic stalactite in a cavern.

"All right, Gordon. Your suit should keep you comfortable through all of this." _Right_, Gordon scoffed to himself. Bennett's voice continued briefing him. "If you would be so good as to start the rotors, we can get started."

Gordon crossed the test chamber to the central analysis computer. He fired up the computer and ran the rotor program.

The immense laser generator in the center of the chamber began rotating, ready to fire.

"Power to stage-one emitters in 3… 2… 1…"

The rotating laser fired down into the heart of the chamber. When the sample arrived, it would be placed in the center of the laser beam to begin the analysis.

Gordon looked down at the computer in front of him. "I'm seeing predictable phase arrays."

"Stage two emitters activating now."

Three more lasers joined the first, forming a highly focused beam of photons.

"Uh, it's probably not a problem – probably," a worried voice announced over the intercom, "But, I'm showing a slight discrepancy in – well, no, it's well within acceptable boundaries. Sustaining sequence."

That didn't sound very comforting to Gordon, but he trusted that the men upstairs knew what they were doing.

Below the test chamber, Gina Cross and Colette Green worked furiously to get the sample ready. They were fortunate that Freeman had showed up late. If he hadn't, it would be their necks on the line right now. The two hazard suits they wore had supposedly protected them from any potential dangers, but it had also slowed them down in their delicate laboring to mount the sample on the delivery cart. The delivery cart was an elaborate table designed to position the sample for optimal scan resolution. A bad mount would ruin the analysis and destroy the sample.

"Done!" Gina announced triumphantly.

The sample was ready to be analyzed.

**Sector G – Main Access Lift** - **Containment Failure -00:07:00**

"That should do it," Calhoun announced as he finished his work on the elevator's control panel. He had actually been done for about ten minutes.

"It's about time," Graham grunted. "I was supposed to be down below fifteen minutes ago."

Graham pushed past Calhoun and pressed a button on the panel. The elevator began a slow descent. A few seconds later, the elevator slowed to a stop, and the lights faded. They were suddenly plunged into darkness.

"What did you do now?" Graham growled at Calhoun.

"Warning! Main power failure on Levels 3, 5, and 8," the facility's automated public address system announced.

"Oh, no," the other scientist groaned. "It's probably those Anomalous Materials people again; always pushing their equipment too hard, gambling in who knows what. I'd be surprised if there's one good brain among them."

**Sector C – Anomalous Materials Test Chamber** - **Containment Failure -00:04:00**

"I've just been informed that the sample is ready, Gordon. It should be coming up to you any moment now. Look to the delivery system for your specimen."

A few seconds later, the delivery cart rose from the ground. The cart held the sample of Xenite. Gordon had never seen such a fantastic crystal. The fragment reflected the light of the chamber with a strange luminance more beautiful than a diamond. _Where does this stuff come from?_, Gordon wondered. He supposed they would find out momentarily.

He slowly pushed the delivery cart across the floor towards the waiting analysis beam.

**Black Mesa Central Command** - **Containment Failure -00:01:00**

Breen glanced at his watch. It would happen any second now.

**Sector C – Anomalous Materials Test Chamber** - **Containment Failure -00:00:30**

Gina Cross and Colette Green watched the monitors from below the test chamber. If they had screwed up the mounting of the crystal, the sample would be ruined. This was the moment of truth.

**Sector C – Anomalous Materials Control Room** - **Containment Failure -00:00:15**

The assembled mass of scientists in the control room collectively held their breaths as they watched the sample move towards the beam.

Suddenly, the door opened and Dr. Rosenberg burst in, screaming.

"Stop the sequence! You've got to shut the laser down!"

Bennett knew Dr. Rosenberg well, and trusted him like a mentor. He had no idea why Rosenberg would want to shut the sequence down, but he didn't question the man for a second. Without a second thought, he pounded the emergency shutdown button. Nothing happened. He pounded it again. The button had been disabled.

All eyes returned to the window as the sample entered the analysis beam. They were too late.

That was when it all went to hell.


	2. Unforeseen Consequences

**Black Mesa**

**By Patrick Williams**

Based on the storyline from Half-Life, a game from Valve Software and Sierra Studios. The Half-Life franchise is the property of Sierra Studios. All rights are reserved to Sierra Studios.

**Chapter 2 – Unforeseen Consequences**

**Sector C – Main Test Chamber – Containment Failure -00:00:00**

The explosion blew Gordon across the test chamber. He was barely conscious enough to hear the shouting coming from the control room above.

"Shut it down, Gordon! Shut it down!" Bennett called over the speaker.

Gordon pulled himself up and limped across the test chamber to the chamber's computer. He hurriedly ran the emergency shut down program.

"It's not shutting down!" Gordon shouted above the fray. "The shut down program is stuck in a loop. It's malfunctioning!"

"We can't shut it down from up here, either! Get out of there!"

**Unknown Location**

Across space and time, a presence was awakened. The Nihilanth had been lying in waiting for this very moment. With a gesture of its hand, armies were readied to be sent into battle. With a whisper, fleets of incredible warships prepared to set flight. With a thought, billions of slaves scrambled to obey its will. The power the Nihilanth harnessed was truly something to behold.

The Nihilanth had conquered its world eons ago. Not satisfied with its control, it began conquering its world over and over again in other dimensions. Countless dimensions existed in the multiverse, and the Nihilanth had reached out and taken billions of them. One of these dimensions, however, had eluded its grasp. For the first time ever, one of the other dimensions had invaded its own. Infuriated at this insult, the Nihilanth had destroyed the invaders. It had since focused all of its energy on finding that dimension and subjugating it. Unable to find it amidst the impossible mass of dimensions that existed, the Nihilanth had almost given up hope. Until now, that is.

Something had happened in the other dimension. One of the linking crystals had been activated. It now shone like a beacon across the dimensions, and its light was almost blinding to the Nihilanth. It could tell instantly that its target had finally been revealed.

The Nihilanth hadn't wasted a nanosecond. Already, its armies and ships had targeted the other dimension and were invading. The Nihilanth focused all of its power and strength on guiding the invasion. It focused all of its power and strength on Earth.

**Sector C – Main Test Chamber**

The strange aura spreading through the test chamber was unlike anything Gordon had ever witnessed. The energy gathering throughout the chamber was tangible. It seemed to be coalescing in the center of the chamber, just above the crystal fragment. As it gathered, Gordon noticed it was giving off particles of energy, rapidly spreading from the center and exiting through the chamber's walls. Arcs of green electricity erupted from within the ball of energy. Gordon's suit displayed several warning messages urging him to seek cover to avoid the dangerous energy sparking around the chamber.

"Gordon, get away from the–"

Without any warning, an arc of electricity shattered the window to the control room above and struck one of the large computers within. The control room erupted in a ball of flame. He could hear their screaming without the aid of the chamber's speakers.

Gordon suddenly felt very much alone and very much afraid.

The arcs of electricity rose in frequency and intensity, and he could feel the energy rising in the room. He didn't need the sensors within his hazard suit to tell him just how much danger he was in. Gordon could feel his hair rising on end, signaling his imminent danger. Before he could react, one of the beams struck him square in the chest and everything went black.

**Sector G – Main Access Lift**

"Warning! Extreme magnetic field hazard in Sector C."

The voice of the public address system could barely be heard above the screaming of those onboard the elevator. There had been another power surge, shorting out the safety locks on the elevator. The elevator had been plummeting straight down for what felt like hours.

Calhoun and Graham clutched the elevator in fear as they prepared for their imminent death when it struck the ground. Calhoun had never been a religious man, but he found himself praying for a miracle to save them.

With a painful screeching noise, the backup emergency brakes kicked in. They were driven to the ground by the sudden deceleration as the elevator slowed to a stop a scant few meters from rock bottom.

"Your floor, sir…" Calhoun gasped as he passed out.

**Unknown Location **

_ Am I dead?_

_ Is this heaven?_

_ Is this hell?_

Gordon could feel nothing. He could see nothing. He could smell nothing. For the first time in his life, he was experiencing true nothingness. The only sounds he could hear were his own heart beating and his lungs slowly moving in and out.

_This must be what it feels like to be in the womb_, Gordon thought aimlessly.

For several minutes, Gordon continued to exist in this state of nothingness. Then, his vision flashed green as the electricity returned. It relieved Gordon when he began to feel the tingling sensation again. He wasn't dead, after all.

Gordon was nearly blinded by the sudden light. When he could see again, he didn't recognize where he was. The place was like nothing he had seen before; a place of bizarre colors and shapes. It seemed that he was in a canyon of some sort, but it was definitely not made of rock. Strange moving plants crawled along the walls, and the walls themselves seemed to be undulating in and out.

Gordon stood agape in a strange liquid, definitely nothing like water. The liquid climbed up his hazard suit, immersing him as if it was actually a living organism. Gordon was frightened, but he could feel the liquid's soothing power through his suit. A pleasant sensation swept over Gordon. He felt completely at home in this bizarre world he knew nothing about. None of that mattered. As long as he was in this pool, nothing else mattered at all. Gordon felt such bliss that he didn't notice the alligator-like creature clambering through the pool towards him, jaw flexing open and shut hungrily.

As suddenly as he had arrived, Gordon felt himself pulled back into the electricity. He felt an immediate feeling of loss for being forced to leave the pool, but the feeling was fleeting and he wondered what had come over him.

Gordon was again in a state of nothingness. He waited, knowing for certain now that this was not death, but some kind of transition. Surely enough, the electricity returned and Gordon braced himself to be thrust back into reality.

Gordon was standing in what seemed to be a spotlight. He could feel eyes – millions of eyes – watching him. He could only see a few of them before him. The creatures standing in front of Gordon were short and reptilian. As they shuffled back and forth, small arcs of electricity jumped between their body parts. Gordon felt true terror for the first time in his life. He fell to his knees, begging to be spared.

_Surely this isn't the champion chosen to defend his dimension!_

The Nihilanth appraised the new arrival, seeing through the eyes of its subjects. This pathetic creature stood no chance against the Vortigaunts standing before it, much less the entire army. This was the one that had been standing at the crystal when it had been activated. Could it have been activated by mistake by this poor fool? If so, he had just doomed his entire world. However, he would never appreciate the magnitude of the mistake if he was simply struck down as he stood. Better to let the pathetic fool see his world conquered before his very eyes; to know that he had single-handedly ended life on his world as he knew it. The Nihilanth dismissed the creature with a thought.

**Sector C – Anomalous Materials Test Chamber**

_What have I done?_

Gordon looked up, and saw the faces of two angels appraising him. He had somehow made it to heaven, after all, it seemed. Gordon didn't notice that these angels were wearing hazard suits.

Gina and Colette had wasted no time getting up to the chamber after the disaster. They had only been able to stare helplessly at the monitors as the electric disturbance tore the chamber to shreds. As soon as the disturbance had settled down they had pried open one of the floor panels and climbed into the test chamber. That's where they had found Gordon, unconscious but still breathing somehow. Klaxons in the distance announced the disaster they had witnessed firsthand.

"Gordon, what happened?" Gina asked.

"I… don't know. The crystal caused some sort of reaction when it entered the beam. I must have loaded the sample improperly… This is all my fault!"

"Nobody's blaming you, Gordon." Colette chimed in, "That was a resonance cascade scenario. Nobody's ever seen one before, and nobody could have known the sample would cause it."

Gordon sat up, slowly and laboriously. He felt like he had been hit by a freight train. His head throbbed from a severe migraine, and his eyes burned from the flashing strobe lights of the chamber.

"What do we do now?" Gordon asked the pair.

"All we can do is get out of this damned chamber and find help for those who were injured. The chamber is so far below the surface that the damage should have been restricted to Sector C. If we can get to one of the adjacent sectors, we should be able to find help."

Gina and Colette helped Gordon to his feet, and the two helped Gordon walk out of the chamber towards the elevator leading to the control room.

They were unprepared for the carnage that awaited them.

**Sector G – Main Access Lift**

Calhoun woke up first. He looked around and saw nothing but devastation. The elevator had stopped near the bottom of Sector G. The area had once been a warehouse, holding hundreds of boxes full of classified material. It had been reduced to rubble.

"What the hell happened?" Calhoun asked no one in particular.

Behind him, Graham groaned as he regained consciousness.

"We've got to get out of here, Calhoun. Whatever happened in Sector C, it sent massive shockwaves throughout the entire facility. There's got to be massive structural damage down here. If we don't get to the surface soon, this place might become our tomb."

They would first worry about escaping this place, and then worry about what the hell had caused the disaster.

**Sector C – Anomalous Materials Control Room**

What had once been a chamber brimming with high-tech equipment was now a smoldering wreck. Pieces of burning computers littered the room, and charred bodies had been flung about like rag dolls. Gordon, Gina, and Colette fought their collective urges to vomit as they made their way around the room, checking for survivors. The sights were disturbing enough, but the smell was what drove them insane. They agreed to close their H.E.V. helmets as they worked.

After a few minutes of inspection, they found but two survivors. Dr. Bennett had been blown clear of most of the destruction, as had another scientist that none of them recognized. After reviving the two, they learned that the other scientist was Dr. Rosenberg. He quickly explained his reasons for being there.

"I knew this was going to happen. I tried to warn them. The administrator just would not listen! They knocked me out to keep me from stopping this experiment!"

This revelation came as a shock to the scientists present. Bennett finally spoke.

"You're telling us that Dr. Breen knew this was going to happen?"

"Not only did he know, but he planned it. This experiment was his idea and he made sure that it happened according to his plan."

"But why? What did these scientists die for?" Gordon interjected.

"I have no idea." Rosenberg sighed. "I suppose we'll have to ask Dr. Breen when we get out of here. We can worry about that later, though. First we have to escape from this tomb and get to the surface!"

The group agreed on that much. They gathered up their wits and prepared to trek across the wasteland of Sector C to find a way to the surface.

**Black Mesa Central Command**

Wallace Breen leaned back in his chair and appraised the monitors arrayed about his desk. Everything was going smoothly thus far. The experiment had been every bit the disaster they had planned. Even now signs were already appearing hinting at the impending invasion. Unidentified biological life forms were being detected throughout the facility. Black Mesa was no longer the secure facility it had once been.

On one monitor, Breen watched as a small rat-like creature crawled towards an unsuspecting scientist sitting at a computer. The scientist was probably trying to find out what was going on elsewhere in the facility. The rat-like creature leaped across the room in a single hop, landing directly on the scientist's face. The scientist leaped from the chair and began flailing about the room, clawing furiously at the creature to no avail. After a few seconds, he stopped struggling and sat back down in his chair. He began convulsing violently as the creature began to take control of his central nervous system.

Breen had seen the disturbing display many times before. The creature was called a "head-crab" by the scientists that had studied them. The head-crabs were the subject of many experiments going on behind closed doors in the Level 5 facilities. All of the test subjects were still in their cages, however. This one was a new arrival.

The Nihilanth had mastered the power of transporting beings across time and space, and was sending the head-crabs through dimensional portals in the first wave of what promised to be a terrible invasion. Rather than come in guns blazing, the invaders sent in a small force of creatures able to conquer the enemy without a fight. After the head-crabs took control of their enemies, they set their unwilling conscripts against the remaining foes, letting them kill each other off long before they sent their true army in. No one aside from a select group of scientists at Black Mesa would ever know about the tactic until it was too late.

All of this played right into their plans. The Nihilanth had taken the bait, and their little war was about to begin.

Breen pressed a button on the desk before him. Miles away, in Santego, a signal was received. Black Mesa had declared a biological containment emergency, and required military assistance immediately. At Santego, the signal was received and processed. Helicopters had already prepared to launch at a moment's notice and lifted off towards Black Mesa. The operation, code-named "Half-Life", was under way.

**Sector G – Sewer Access**

There was no way out of Sector G. Calhoun and Graham had probed every corner of the basement and couldn't find any way up or out. Graham had given up hope rather quickly, and had been whining about their fate for a few minutes when Calhoun had an idea.

"You've got to be kidding me!" Graham scoffed at the lunacy of Calhoun's plan

"It's the only way out." Calhoun said matter-of-factly. There was only one way for them to go now: through the sewers.

A facility as large as Black Mesa generated some serious waste. The awkward design of the facility prevented the removal of this waste through normal methods. The waste had to be pumped up hundreds of feet before it could enter any kind of retrieval or purification system. This meant that huge pipes ran the length of the facility, connecting each section to the rest. The pipes were large enough for people to walk through, if necessary. Calhoun had never imagined that he would need to use them. It was their only option now.

Calhoun practically had to shove the apprehensive scientist into the pipe before following close behind. Very quickly they ran out of light, and Calhoun used his flashlight to light their way. The pipe was much smaller than either of them imagined it would be. The air was dank and reeked from the stench of the thick sludge they waded through. The pipe had many turns and twists in it, and neither of them had any real idea where they were going. They knew one thing for sure, though. It would be a very bad thing if anyone up above decided to flush.

Both of them quickly noticed a disturbing fact. The pipes weren't leading up, as they had hoped. Instead, they were leading down. Neither commented on this fact as they trudged on, both knowing they had no choice but to continue onwards. Behind them was a dead end in Sector G, and ahead of them darkness thicker than the sludge they crawled through.

**Santego**** Military Base**

The base was a font of activity. Troops ran from building to building making last minute preparations before their deployment. The announcement had been made a few minutes earlier, to no one's surprise.

As the V-22 Ospreys loaded with troops, attack helicopters lifted off to escort the helicopters to Black Mesa. AH-64 Apaches hovered around the base, waiting to make the short trip. Several F-35 Joint-Strike-Fighters had been summoned from a nearby airstrip as well. A dedicated E-67 Airborne Warning and Control System had been assigned to the area to monitor the situation. The AWACS would direct the Apaches and F-35s and guarantee air superiority over the target.

They didn't know what exactly they would be facing, but they were told to expect attacks from every direction, including the sky. Their orders made one thing very clear: they couldn't be too careful. The advice fell on deaf ears, however. The military never went into a situation without being prepared for any eventuality. This would be no exception.

The public address system of the base chimed to life one last time before the troops carried out their mission.

"Attention all personnel: This is Major General Thompson. Make no mistakes; today's operation is for real. This is not a drill. You're about to go up against an unknown force threatening our nation. That's all I can tell you for now. Your sergeants will fill you in with further details when you set down at the landing zones. That is all. Carry on!"

The troops began filing onto the Ospreys, which lifted off when full. In perfect formation, the helicopters moved towards Black Mesa like a group of hawks approaching their prey.

**Sector C – Lobby **

Their search had turned up few survivors. Those that were still alive were too badly wounded to risk moving. They had hoped to find survivors huddled in the lobby, but there was no one there left alive. The damage from the accident had been more catastrophic than any of them had imagined. The entire sector was collapsing in on itself. Most of the men and women of Sector C had been crushed by falling debris. The rest were simply missing. An aura of death hung low over Sector C. It was only a matter of time before the ceiling above them gave out and crushed them all.

The group agreed unanimously that they needed to get out of Sector C as soon as possible. The most obvious avenue of escape, the tram, was nonfunctional. The walkway extending to the tram track had collapsed. Even if they could summon a tram, it would stop 20 feet away from them; far too long a distance for any of them to jump. They needed to find another way out.

Rosenberg could think of only one other way out.

"We need to take the sewers."

"Are you mad?" Gordon exclaimed.

"If you have a better idea, I'd be glad to consider it."

Gordon stared at him, resignedly. They set off to find a way into the sewer system.

There was a sewer access grate in the maintenance closet behind the restrooms. As they made their way to the restrooms, they stumbled across the creature. The small rat-like beast was scurrying about the hallway like a spider, waving its arms in the air as it walked. It didn't seem to notice the group of people approaching.

"What is that?!" Gina squealed, barely holding back a scream.

The group tried to keep her quiet, but it was too late. She had already given away their presence to the creature.

It leaped through the air, covering over ten feet in a single bound. It landed on Gordon's head and began sucking at his helmet. Fortunately, the armor was strong enough to keep its teeth at bay.

Bennett swung into action, grabbing a crowbar from the maintenance closet. He gave the creature a swing that Barry Bonds would have been proud of. The creature splattered against the wall.

"What was that?" Gina gasped.

"That, my dear," Rosenberg explained, "was a head-crab. It's like no creature you'll find here on Earth."

"What do you mean by that?" Bennett chimed in.

"I mean, simply, that it's not from Earth. It's from another dimension."

That struck a chord with Gordon. "I've been there, I think. Something happened during the accident and I was sent there. It wasn't like anything I'd ever seen before. Rosenberg is right. These creatures aren't from around here. How did you know about them?"

"We've been doing experiments on these creatures for some time, now. The head-crabs take control of humans by leeching onto their central nervous systems. If it had attacked someone without a hazard suit, they would have become… one of _them_. _They_ come from a place we call Xen. That's where we found that crystal you've become so familiar with. Unfortunately for us, these head-crabs are only the tip of the iceberg. I have a bad feeling that we'll be encountering far worse before we get out of here."

"Then let's get out of here, and fast." Bennett spoke for the group.

They used the crowbar to pry open the grate for the sewer pipe and were about to enter it when they heard a noise. Something was coming towards them through the pipe.

Horrible visions flashed before their eyes as to what horrible creation awaited them in the pipe. Bennett tossed the crowbar to Gordon, who stood before the grate fighting the urge to wet himself. He tried to ready himself for anything.

**Black Mesa – Canyon Entrance**

The Osprey flew low over the canyons surrounding the Black Mesa Research Facility. The AWACS flew thousands of feet above them, scouring the skies for any sign of trouble.

Onboard the Osprey, a nine-man squad of troops was strapped in, awaiting orders when they reached the Landing Zone. The LZ was located directly in front of the main entrance to Black Mesa. Somewhere in this maze of canyons was an entrance to the subterranean facility. It was normally heavily guarded by electric fences, mine fields, and guard towers with snipers. They were prepared to deal with all of these, in the event that the facility's security had been compromised. They had no idea what they were up against, yet.

The Osprey was flanked by an Apache attack helicopter, which broke off as the Osprey approached the LZ. The LZ was inside the perimeter of electric fences and mine fields. The area served as a checkpoint to traffic attempting to enter the facility, with an electrified gate leading outside of the perimeter to the mine field. A road wove through the canyon toward an entrance in the rock face. The entrance was covered by a heavy steel gate, impenetrable to even the most powerful explosives known. The road towards the entrance was flanked on both sides by guard towers. Any unfriendly traffic attempting to drive down this round would be assaulted on all sides by sniper fire from the towers before being stopped by the impenetrable gate. No one could get into Black Mesa without authorization.

"All right men, we are three-zero seconds from the LZ. Your orders are to secure the perimeter and open the outer gates for the motorcade. No resistance is expected, but be prepared for anything." The sergeant of the platoon made no mention of the possibility of alien encounter.

The Osprey hovered low over the center of the road, and the nine men rappelled down on ropes down to the pavement. They instantly fanned out towards the sides of the canyon, eager to get out of the center of the road where they would be sitting ducks for any impending threats. They moved in three-man teams, each covering the one ahead as they moved. They quickly covered the expanse of road between the LZ and the outer gate. Beyond the electrified outer gate, the motorcade waited several hundred meters away. The area had been carpet bombed to clear the mine field for the motorcade's approach. The lead tanks idled, prepared to fire at a moment's notice in the event of trouble. Something was definitely wrong with the situation. There was no sign of any Black Mesa personnel. There should have at least been guards in the towers. They were nowhere to be found.

The troops ignored this fact and secured the outer gate while the point man climbed up the guard tower. He operated the gate controls, turning the electrical current off and opening the gate. The troops gave the all clear signal over the radio, and the motorcade approached. The troops held fast at the gate, waiting for the last vehicle to pass through. The motorcade consisted of M1A2 Abrams tanks, M2A3 Bradley fighting vehicles, and M1109 HMMWVs - High Mobility Multipurpose Wheeled Vehicles better known as Humvees. The Bradley tanks moved in first, scouting ahead with their 25mm chain guns. The Abrams tanks followed; sweeping the deserted road with their powerful 120mm cannons. The Hummers pulled up the rear; flanked by troops running alongside, ready to engage any threat foolish enough to attack the motorcade. One of the Hummers served as the command vehicle, and Major General Thompson and his command staff huddled inside, going over satellite maps of the area.

One of the sergeants updated the General on the situation, "Sir, we have yet to encounter any Black Mesa personnel. This is supposed to be a heavily secured area, and Black Mesa Security should be manning the towers to protect the facility from outside threats."

The General replied, "Not if the threat is coming from within the facility, Sergeant. All of this is concurrent with the information the insider has given us."

"Yes, sir. Our projected route takes us through the surface complex of Black Mesa, past these barracks, parking lots, and surface storage facilities. If the insider proves faithful, he will be monitoring our situation from Black Mesa Central Command. He will open the steel gate when we approach, giving us access to the facility."

"Good. Instruct the tanks to fan out around the surface complex and to be ready for anything. Let me know when we're approaching the gate. I want to address the troops and get them up to speed on the situation down there."

**Black ****Mesa**** Central Command**

Dr. Breen watched the security monitors with great interest. The Army motorcade was approaching the gate, and the invasion was continuing as planned. Already, a great majority of the facility's staff had fallen victim to the head-crab invasion. From the cameras all around the facility, the figures wandering the hallways were no longer entirely human. They had become… something else. After the head-crabs took control of the central nervous system, they began taking over the other systems as well. The victims became much more alien than human. Their physiologies mutated into grotesque monstrosities. Their fingers and hands became vicious claws and their chests gaped wide with fangs. They became zombies, with an unquenchable thirst for flesh. The head-crabs remained attached to their faces, guiding their newly mutated hosts like jockeys on horses.

It was distasteful, but the process served Breen's purposes perfectly. He had described all of this in great detail to the President. That alone hadn't quite convinced him, but a video of the mutation from Black Mesa's archives had done the trick. The President had agreed that the alien threat posed a clear and present danger to the people of the United States of America. The President had given authority to the military to use whatever means necessary to stop the zombie threat if it ever became aroused. The President had signed the death warrant of every man and woman within Black Mesa's subterranean walls.


	3. Office Complex

**Black Mesa**

**By Patrick Williams**

Based on the storyline from Half-Life, a game from Valve Software and Sierra Studios. The Half-Life franchise is the property of Sierra Studios. All rights are reserved to Sierra Studios.

**Chapter 3 – Office Complex**

**Sector C – Sewer Access **

Gordon Freeman stood before the sewer grate, crowbar held ready for whatever horror was about to greet them. The four other scientists huddled behind him; Gina and Colette in front with their hazard suits, with Bennett and Rosenberg in the rear. They were as ready as they could get for whatever awaited them in the sewer pipe below.

The sloshing noise became louder as the creature approached. A faint groan echoed through the pipe. Suddenly, the noise stopped. The creature must have noticed the open grate, and was pondering its next move. The religious among the group prayed or crossed themselves.

A filthy brown shape slowly peeked out of the grate, and Gordon moved in to strike with his crowbar.

"Wait!" a voice called from behind.

Gordon paused, and looked curiously over his shoulder. Rosenberg was waving his hands frantically. "It's not one of them, help him up!"

Gordon and Gina reached down and helped the brown shape out of the pipe. Their creature was nothing more than a helpless scientist covered in the sewer's muck. A few seconds later, his companion climbed out of the pipe after him. This shape turned out to be a security guard.

After hosing the pair off, they learned that the duo had crawled through the sewer pipes all the way from Sector G. And somebody upstairs had flushed, it seemed.

Graham and Calhoun had never been as thankful as they were when they escaped from the pipe. They had worried that it would go on forever, or lead into a garbage compactor before they could get out. Graham had eagerly climbed up to the open grate and would have lost his head if it hadn't been for Rosenberg's foresight.

Their merry little gang had picked up two more members, as Graham and Calhoun eagerly volunteered to follow along and help in any way possible. They might not have been as eager if they had known that they would be going right back into the sewer pipe.

**Black Mesa – Canyon Entrance **

The Abrams spread themselves out around the surface complex, guarding every known entrance to the facility below. The Bradleys and Hummers continued towards the steel gate that protected the main entrance through the canyon wall. The tanks stopped a hundred meters from the gate, forming a wall to shield the troops from any potential dangers behind the gate when it opened. The rear doors on the Bradley tanks swung open and the troops onboard poured out. The drivers and gunners remained onboard in case of unexpected danger.

The Hummers pulled up in formation behind the Bradleys and they too emptied their troop loads. The soldiers gathered around the Command Humvee, on top of which stood Major General Thompson. He spoke into a field radio wired into the speakers on the Bradleys.

"Good day and welcome to Black Mesa. You are being called to protect your nation from a grave threat to our national security. Behind that steel gate, this facility has been overrun by biological contamination. This contamination is mutating the staff of the facility into creatures more horrible than you can imagine. Creatures not from this planet are invading our own, and the facility ahead of us is the focal point of their invasion. If these creatures aren't stopped in their tracks, they will overrun our homeland and destroy our way of life as we know it.

We know that the biological contamination has infected the entire facility. You are ordered to assume anyone not wearing a military uniform is hostile, and you are authorized to use lethal force to prosecute them. I know these orders might be difficult for some of you; after all, you're being ordered to kill what might appear to be innocent civilians. But make no mistake; the staff of this facility represents the greatest domestic threat our nation has ever faced. If you are unable to carry out your orders, I'll shoot you myself. Is that clear?"

The assembled troops called out as one. "Sir, yes, sir!"

"Good. Now get your gear prepped for action. Get in there and kick some ass!"

The troops shouted wildly, waving their weapons in the air. The General stepped down off of the Hummer and handed the field radio to one of his Sergeants. The troops were ready.

The troops boarded their vehicles and moved towards the steel gate. Upon their approach, the steel gate began to slide open, revealing a cavernous tunnel leading down into the earth.

The zombies had been waiting behind the gate to be released.

**Black Mesa Central Command**

The main gate was open, and Breen's work here was done. Now he just had to wait to be rescued.

Several workers and a security guard remained behind in Central Command, assisting the administrator in trying to see what the hell was happening to their facility. They no longer had a reason to stay behind.

Breen entered the control room, cleared his throat, and spoke, "This place is no longer safe. I would suggest that you make your way down to the main gate and meet up with the troops. You will be safer there. I will remain behind and help the soldiers from here."

The group left without a second thought, eager to get out of this place. They actually believed that they would make it out of Black Mesa alive.

Breen smiled as they left. He returned to his office and continued monitoring the situation from behind his expansive desk.

**Sewage Treatment Facility CD-204**

The seven intrepid sewer explorers finally reached the end of the pipe. It had continued its downward trend for several hundred meters before spilling out into a gigantic vat. The vat was part of the system that brought the waste to higher levels for treatment and recycling. Fortunately, the vat was disabled for the time being.

The group dropped from the pipe into the vat. They swam through the thick muck, looking for a way out of their cylindrical prison. It was Graham that noticed the ropes hanging from the ceiling.

"We can use these to climb out!" he announced, proud of his discovery.

"No, wait!" Rosenberg shouted, but he was too late.

Graham grabbed onto one of the ropes, which in turn grabbed him even harder. Graham realized quickly that this was not a rope, but a tongue. He looked up and saw that the tongue dangled from a slug-like beast leeching onto the ceiling. The tongue began pulling him up, kicking and screaming, towards the gaping jaws of the creature.

Calhoun reacted instantly, drawing his .357 Magnum. He lined up the sight with the creature hanging from the ceiling and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened. The pistol was jammed. He opened the cylinder and saw that the gun was completely clogged with sewage. He would have to give it a thorough cleaning before it would fire. He looked up and saw that he was already too late.

The creature wrapped itself around Graham's head, and his body convulsed violently as his brains were sucked from his skull. A horrible crunching noise announced that the skull had cracked. Graham's body hung limp from the creature's mouth, a piece of meat waiting to be digested.

Calhoun cursed loudly.

Colette tried to console him. "There was nothing you could have done, Barney. There was nothing any of us could have done."

Rosenberg explained what had just occurred. "We call those things Barnacles. You've seen their attack in heinous detail. They sense victims through that tongue of theirs, and once they've got you there isn't much you can do to save yourself. In the future, we must avoid anything hanging from the ceiling."

Rosenberg's coldness shocked them. He seemed to regard Graham's death as a trivial matter; not caring that a member of their party had just been killed. He wasn't the least bit shocked by the carnage. They wondered how many times Rosenberg had seen this display to become so desensitized to it.

Gordon then noticed the irony of the situation. Behind the tongue Graham had grabbed was a ladder that led out of the vat. He had helped them discover the way out, after all.

**Black Mesa – Canyon Entrance**

The zombies stumbled out of the hole in the canyon wall, slowly hobbling towards the line of Bradley tanks. There were at least twenty of them. They didn't stand a chance.

The gunners onboard the Bradleys opened fire, mowing the zombies down with their 25mm chain guns. The zombies were torn to shreds by the hail of bullets.

As their smoking chain guns silenced and stopped spinning, the Bradleys rolled towards the gaping entrance. The battle for Black Mesa had been joined.

"All right, troops; move in!" a sergeant shouted over the fray. The anxious soldiers raced towards the canyon entrance. Some of them were shocked at what they had just seen, but none of them let it show. Most of them had assumed that this was a simple drill; that the biological mutation story was an elaborate hypothetical situation. The reality of the threat hit them as they stepped over the bodies and realized the danger they were about to face.

Many of them had doubted their ability to gun down innocent civilians, but they realized now that no one in the facility could be truly innocent. They were all mutating into those monsters. If they weren't stopped here and now, their families and friends back home could be threatened by those monsters, or worse; _become_ one of them. They had to be stopped at any cost.

While many of the troops had been going through a moral dilemma, some had not. Many of the troops saw this as a chance to get some real action for the first time in their careers. They had been training to fight for years, with no reason to exercise their skills. Blowing holes in targets and shooting blanks at each other became repetitive and boring. They were eager for action, even if it meant gunning down hapless civvies.

**Sewage**** Treatment Center**** CD-204**

The group climbed out of the vat and used a nearby hose to clean each other off. They were now cold, wet, and miserable.

Calhoun had cleaned his pistol four times since he escaped from the vat. He was determined not to fail again. He sat in the corner quietly, cleaning his pistol a fifth time.

The rest of the group was coming to terms with the horrible reality they faced. They felt very tired and very alone. It was clear that no one would come to rescue them, and they would only survive by sticking together.

"We need more firepower." Calhoun said aimlessly as he gazed through the cylinder of his pistol.

Rosenberg agreed. "Yes, what we've seen so far is only the beginning. We'll face many more hardships before we get out of this place."

Bennett took charge. "I don't think we should be in such a hurry to get out of here. Our fellow scientists need our help. If we could scrounge up some weapons, we could help them."

"Lunacy!" Rosenberg interjected. "In a situation like this, self preservation is paramount. We're not soldiers. Our job isn't to save lives. Our first goal is escape. We can notify the proper authorities once we're safely out of this place."

"By the time we get out, it might be too late for our friends. How can you turn your back on them so quickly? We can only survive a situation like this by sticking together!"

"We're not trained in disaster response. Only the military can handle a situation like this!"

Gordon stepped in to keep the peace. "Now, now, we can sort this out later. Whatever path we choose, we still have to get to the surface. Are we agreed on that much?"

Both scientists nodded. It was an issue to worry about later. The first cracks in their ad hoc coalition were appearing, however.

They had mostly dried off from the hosing they had received and were as ready to move on as they would get. They hiked through the treatment center, holding their noses as they went. The place stank like nothing they had smelled before. It was a smell so rancid that holding your nose couldn't keep it out. You could still smell it through your mouth. They wouldn't linger here a moment longer than they needed to.

On the opposite side of the chamber was a hallway leading to an elevator. As they approached, they heard the distinctive sound of gunfire in the distance. Calhoun identified the sound as a Glock 9mm pistol, a standard issue for Black Mesa security personnel. Calhoun drew his pistol and raced to the front of the group, holding his hand up to silently tell the group to stop as his other hand aimed the pistol into the dark hallway ahead of them. The gunshots had stopped, but there were footsteps approaching.

Calhoun stood ready, both hands now aiming the pistol into the darkness. The footsteps grew louder. He waited for some kind of identification, a shout or greeting, but received none.

The figure stepped into the light and Calhoun began firing without a second thought. His first .357 round impacted the monster in the gaping mouth on it's chest. The creature continued to hobble towards them, feeling little pain. Calhoun's second shot hit the creature where the head should have been. The head-crab that had conquered the body exploded with puss, and the creature fell to the ground, dead.

"That," Rosenberg explained, "is what we affectionately call a zombie. It's what we mutate into when we're taken over by head-crabs. Not a pretty sight, as you can tell. The alien physiology takes over and turns us into those killing machines. They feel little pain and have a constant craving for flesh. There is no reasoning with them. The shreds of humanity remaining would prefer you kill them and put an end to their agony."

They left the zombie's body where it lay. Farther down the hallway they found a security guard's body, still clutching his pistol. The guard's throat had been slashed, with several deep gashes still gushing blood onto the floor. The group cringed at the site, but Calhoun reached down and retrieved the guard's weapon and ammunition.

"Sorry, buddy," he said as a sort of eulogy, "You fought well, but we need these more than you do." He handed the pistol to Gordon, under protest.

"I've hardly fired a weapon before!" Gordon objected.

"Hey, you went through the hazard course when you were hired. They trained you how to fire a pistol. You just turn the safety off, aim, and fire. It doesn't take a PhD, pal. You, Gina, and Colette are the closest thing to soldiers we have, and your hazard suits will help you handle these monsters better than the rest of us can."

Gordon fumed at the insult, but took the words to heart. Calhoun was right, of course. The hazard suits meant that the three of them were the best hope the group had of making it out alive.

**Black Mesa Atrium**

The tunnel in the canyon led to a spacious room that served as an imposing entrance for the underground facility. The lobby had several stories of glass-walled offices and conference rooms facing a central atrium several stories tall. Tall trees grew in the atrium, surrounded by a comfortable seat wall. The atrium was naturally lit by a series of glass pyramids open to the sky above them. A large swinging pendulum hung from one side of the lobby. The accident had knocked the pendulum out of its nearly perpetual motion, and it hung awkwardly limp to one side. The layout of the lobby seemed like that of an extravagant hotel or mall. It provided an effective front for the horrible experiments that happened deep below.

The tunnel the soldiers had entered led to the ground floor of the atrium. From this point on the tanks were useless. The hallways of the facility were far too small for them to be of any use. A Bradley parked itself in the center of the atrium to act as a resupply point while the rest continued to patrol the surface complex.

A gentle tone announced that an elevator from the upper levels was arriving. The troops instantly reacted, forming a semi-circle of shotguns aimed at the elevator's door. It slowly slid open, revealing three Black Mesa employees and a security guard.

"Oh thank god, it's y—" the guard wasn't able to finish his sentence as the troops opened fire; the shotgun blasts tearing through their targets, leaving a bloody mess on the wall behind them. The security guard remained alive enough to look up at the soldiers curiously before the life left his eyes. The soldiers entered the elevator and rode it up to secure the upper levels.

The troops fanned out along the ground floor of the lobby in nine-man squads, sticking close to the outer walls, wary to venture into the open space of the atrium, where there was little cover. Each squad had a sergeant in command. They moved through the side offices and meeting halls along the lobby, clearing them of anything not wearing a military uniform. Most of them were deserted, but several were already hostile.

A head-crab heard the approaching soldiers and crouched behind the door of one of the many dark offices. The point man barged in, waving his MP5 sub-machine gun and its attached flashlight from side to side, looking for threats. He hadn't even noticed the small head-crab crouched on the file cabinet to one side. The head-crab leaped onto the troop's face, and the terrified soldier began firing off MP5 rounds wildly around the office. The dark room was lit by the soldier's explosive strobe light. The troops behind him scattered for cover, looking to their sergeant for instruction.

"Take him out!" he ordered without a second thought. The sergeants had been briefed on most of the species they might encounter. He would be doing them all a favor by killing the poor bastard before he began mutating.

The soldiers opened fire on their comrade, the bullets puncturing his head and the head-crab attached to it. The office beyond was bathed in a mixture of yellow alien blood and red human blood, and was once again dark. The soldiers decided not to linger, moving on to the adjacent office without any attempt to recover the body.

In a meeting hall in one of the upper levels, a squad had encountered a new creature. It looked, acted, and even sounded like a reptilian puppy. It barked happily at the troops, wagging its short scaled tail. The troops were hesitant to open fire, and the creature approached warily. The sergeant radioed to his superiors for instructions.

The muffled response was quick and direct. "Open fire, sergeant; repeat, open fire! The houndeye is hostile and considered extremely dangerous! Don't let it get near your men!"

The sergeant looked at the adorable creature skeptically. The houndeye didn't look like it could hurt a fly. One of the troops reached out to pet it. The houndeye panicked and began making a high pitched squealing noise. The soldiers clamped their hands to their ears, trying to keep the painful noise out. As they did this, the houndeye unleashed its attack. It screamed, sending a powerful shockwave that threw the soldiers about like rag dolls. The outer glass wall of the meeting hall shattered as troops were blown out into the atrium and fell several stories to their deaths. The survivors quickly scrambled to their feet and opened fire with their MP5s and shotguns. The creature exploded in a yellow mess.

As the troops secured the lobby, more soldiers prepared to make their entrance. The soldiers on the ground level were told to evacuate the central atrium as the glass pyramids on the ceiling exploded, showering the ground with shards of broken glass. Soldiers rappelled down through the roof, swinging onto the top level of the lobby. Their target was Central Command, where they would set up their temporary headquarters. From there, they could monitor the entire facility and coordinate their assault.

The squad moved quickly, racing across the level towards the double doors that led to Central Command. More soldiers arrived on the elevator from the lower levels to help clear their way. As a security precaution, the heavy doors to Central Command bolted shut during an emergency. The doors could only be opened from within.

The squad's engineer stepped in, lighting his blowtorch with the cigar he had been smoking. The blowtorch made short work of the metal doors, carving a rectangular hole around the edges. The door gave way with a powerful kick, and the squad poured in.

They found the command center empty, and stumbled across a single survivor in an adjacent office. This man was their inside contact, and he had been expecting their arrival.

"You could have knocked, you know," Dr. Breen said, with a playful sideways grin.

The sergeant rolled his eyes and retrieved his radio. "This is Gamma squad; we have secured Central Command."

**Sector D – Administration Center**

The group stepped off the elevator, disappointed that it hadn't gone all the way to the surface. Instead, it had deposited them in one of the many office complexes of Black Mesa. A facility like Black Mesa generated a lot of paper work, and a good portion of the facility was dedicated to generating and filing it. These offices were classified "Level 4." There was information within these walls that few present were cleared to see. It was a shame that they couldn't take more time to explore.

Rosenberg explained the situation. "These offices are adjacent to the warehouse facility. The warehouse has freight elevators that can reach the surface. We're almost there!"

A shout from down the hall brought the group running. It was most definitely a human shout. They rounded a corner and saw a scientist trying to pull something out of a ventilation shaft. Another scientist was stuck in the shaft, being pulled in deeper by some unseen threat. The group raced to the rescue, but before they could help, both scientists were pulled into the shaft, screaming. The screams were cut off by the sound of cracking bones. Gordon and Calhoun held their weapons ready, but whatever had attacked the scientists was scurrying down the shaft now.

"Any idea what that was, Dr. Rosenberg?" Gina asked.

"It appears the zombies are adapting and learning new methods of attacking. This is most disturbing. I didn't think they had the capability to learn so fast."

They continued on through the offices towards the warehouse facility. This level was every bit the wreck that Sector C was. The ceiling had collapsed in at several places, and there were water leaks everywhere. Clearly, they had severely underestimated the effects of the resonance cascade. The offices were littered with dead bodies. If there were any monsters around, they were hiding from the group as they made their way through the office complex.

They began to relax as they moved, thinking they might just be past the worst of their journey. They allowed themselves to become lax, unsuspecting of the trap that lay ahead of them.

The group found the zombie in the middle of its meal. The monster had killed a scientist and torn his body to shreds. It scooped up pieces of the scientist handfuls at a time, shoveling the meat into the inhuman mouth that had formed in its chest cavity. The jaws hungrily slurped on the meal. The repugnant sight turned the stomachs of the scientists.

Calhoun tapped Gordon on the shoulder. Gordon nodded, and the pair raised their pistols, aiming them at the zombie's artificial head.

"Die, you bastard!" Calhoun shouted as they opened fire.

Most of their bullets hit their mark. Gordon's shots were understandably less accurate than Calhoun's, but Gordon's hand-eye coordination was superb nonetheless. Gordon had little experience firing weapons, but he was a quick study.

The zombie crumbled to the ground. It was only after their pistols fell silent that they heard the footsteps approaching behind them. It was an ambush.

Three zombies approached from the hallway behind them. Four more zombies appeared in the hallway ahead of them. The zombies must have been hiding, waiting for the right moment to strike. They were displaying a level of intelligence no one assumed they were capable of.

Calhoun began firing at the three zombies coming from the rear, and Gordon began firing in the opposite direction. The bodies began piling up on both sides, as Gordon and Calhoun emptied their weapons at the wave of zombies coming at them. Gordon lined up his next shot and pulled the trigger. The pistol didn't fire, but made a clicking noise, announcing that the clip was empty. Gordon fumbled through the hazard suit's storage units, trying to remember where he had put the spare clips.

"Barney, I need some help over here!" Gordon called as he attempted to remove the empty clip from his nearly useless pistol.

"I'm a bit busy myself, Gordon!" Calhoun called back as he too fumbled to reload his weapon. The zombies were getting dangerously close.

Gordon couldn't get his weapon loaded. He looked behind him at Calhoun, who was having almost as much trouble getting bullets into the cylinder of his .357. The zombies were only a few feet away now.

A sound rang out in the hallway ahead of them that brought them all hope; a 12-gauge shotgun blast. Unless the zombies had learned to fire weapons, help was on the way.

A group of security guards with shotguns burst into the room, and the tide of the battle changed instantly. The remaining zombies were blown apart by shotgun blasts. In a matter of seconds, the only bodies left standing were full-blooded human.

**Sector D – Cafeteria**

Their saviors escorted them through the office complex towards the cafeteria. What had once been a place to relax and eat was now a fortress. Tables had been overturned to form a wall around the kitchen and serving area, where a group of survivors were huddled. The outer wall of tables was patrolled by shotgun-brandishing security guards. A table was moved out of their way so they could enter the makeshift fortress. A scientist stepped forward to welcome them.

"Welcome to our little camp. My name is Eli Vance, and I suppose you could say that I'm in charge here. I sent out the guards when we heard your gunfire down the hall. I'm glad we did. Your hazard suits will prove to be invaluable."

The members of the group introduced themselves, and Vance continued explaining their situation.

"We've sent out search parties and brought back every survivor we could. We plan on waiting out the disaster down here. There's enough food and supplies in the kitchen to last us for weeks. We found a cache of weapons down here, and we have enough ammunition to take over a small country. Now we have your three hazard suits which will help protect our search parties."

Gordon cut in, "You're assuming that we want to stay here with you. We had actually planned to go to the surface."

Vance replied, "You're fools if you don't stay here with us. Believe me, I share your concerns. My wife and daughter are out there somewhere. But leaving this place now would be suicide, and I wouldn't be any good to them dead. Someone is bound to investigate this tragedy and rescue us in due time. Until then, the best thing we can do is to stay put and keep each other alive."

Gina added her opinion, "We can't count on that. The military might not even know what happened."

Colette agreed, "We have to get to the surface and make sure they know we're down here."

Vance shook his head resignedly. "You can go to the surface if you'd like, but we could use your help down here. As you found out yourselves, these monsters are everywhere. We can only hold them off if we stick together."

Bennett took his turn, "I agree that sticking together and helping our fellow scientists is a noble cause, but I think we can do more good by getting to the surface. We can meet up with other survivors there and plan rescue missions."

Rosenberg did not feel the need to share his point of view. He was shocked that these educated men and women could be so foolish as to want to stay down here. Their only chance of survival was to escape from this place. Rosenberg held his tongue for fear of offending his colleagues. If they wanted to waste their lives on some foolish crusade down here, then so be it.

Calhoun also stayed quiet. _These scientists could probably talk the monsters to death_, he thought. The only course of action that made any sense to him was escape. He was no hero, after all. He just wanted to live to see another day.

Vance realized that he was getting nowhere. "I can see that I won't be able to convince you to stay here with us. You can head for the surface if you wish, but I suggest you at least have a good meal with us before you leave."

There was no arguing with that. The group relaxed and ate a full meal from the cafeteria's kitchen. As they ate, they continued debating the proper course of action. The debate became heated at times, but level heads prevailed and it was decided that the group would head for the surface with Vance's blessing. Vance would send them on their way with the only gift he could afford to give. Gordon, Gina, and Colette were given 12-gauge shotguns and plenty of ammunition. Calhoun turned down the shotgun offer, asking only for ammunition for his trusty .357 Magnum. Bennett and Rosenberg refused any weapons. They had no interest in fighting. They would leave that to their armored companions.

The group rose to leave just as the next wave of monsters attacked.

**Black Mesa Central Command**

As Major General Thompson strode down the hallways around Black Mesa's atrium, soldiers stopped what they were doing to stand at attention in his presence. The General was flanked by his usual team of sergeants and military advisors. They struggled to keep up with the fast pace with which the General moved.

The squads had sounded off by the numbers and announced that the lobby and atrium had been completely cleared. The General hadn't wasted a moment, heading straight for his hew headquarters in Central Command.

Central Command had been transformed into a mobile command center. The facility's security system had been adapted and routed into military computers. The facility's announcement system had also been compromised to suit their purposes. In the event that radio contact was lost with troops in the field, the announcement system could be used to regain communication.

Central Command was an impregnable fortress. Turrets were set up around the lobby, equipped with automated machine guns programmed to fire on any target not wearing the urban camouflage pattern used by the troops. Sandbag bunkers with apertures for .50-caliber machine guns were built around the door to Central Command and teams of soldiers guarded the positions. Central Command was one of the few safe locations left in Black Mesa.

One of the General's aides found a strange computer console and called to his superior. "Sir, what do you make of this?"

Thompson walked over and looked at the console. It showed a digital map of the facility, zoomed in on three flashing yellow dots. A text box over the dots read _"H.E.V. Suits Detected in Sector D: Cafeteria. WARNING: Suits out of designated range Sector C: Anomalous Materials. Automatic tracking engaged."_

The General turned to an aide. "Get Breen in here. Now."

A few minutes later, Dr. Breen arrived at Central Command with an armed escort.

"General, what is the meaning of this?" Breen demanded, "I was told I would be free to go as soon as you arrived. Your soldiers won't let me leave!"

"We're not through with you yet, Doctor," the General grinned. "As long as this facility remains hostile, we need you here to consult. For starters, you can explain what this console is telling us."

Breen examined the tracking station and was shocked by what he saw. They were supposed to be dead! "My God!" he exclaimed. "I wouldn't have thought it possible. General, these dots represent Gordon Freeman, Colette Green, and Gina Cross. Those are the three scientists who were working at Ground Zero. They somehow survived the disaster, no doubt thanks to their hazard suits."

Thompson's mind whirled, considering the possibilities. He had read about these hazard suits, but he hadn't believed the specifications until now. If the suits could survive such a disaster, they would be most useful in their unfolding operation. With the experiment over, the General doubted the scientists had much use for the suits anyway. He would put them to far better use.

**Sector D – Cafeteria**

The attackers were unlike anything they had seen yet. The attackers were humanoid with a reptilian skin. Their heads featured a single large red eye. The creatures wore a shock collar around their necks, no doubt used to discipline those that disobeyed orders. Electricity arced between their body parts. The sight was eerily familiar to Gordon.

"I've seen these before. When I went to that other dimension, _they_ were there!" Gordon reeled in horror.

Rosenberg calmed him down. "Now, now, Gordon; those are merely Vortigaunts. They're little more than the alien worker class. They're weak minded and easily killed. Their only attack—"

Rosenberg was cut off as a beam of green electricity ionized the air inches from his head. He dropped to the ground, hiding underneath a table. He continued speaking to Gordon.

"Their bodies pulse with electricity. They can build up an electrical charge and release it at targets. Keep your head low, Gordon!"

Gordon picked up his shotgun and joined the security guards at the outer wall. Gina, Colette, and Calhoun were there already, firing their weapons into the mass of attacking Vortigaunts.

Despite what Rosenberg had said, these slaves did display a degree of intelligence. They surrounded the makeshift fortress and spread their beams equally around the wall. The slaves were outmatched, however. Their electrical beams couldn't penetrate the table wall. The plastic tables were horrible conductors, and their attack was powerless to harm their targets beyond it. The security guards quickly realized this and used it to their advantage. They peeked out above the wall, firing pot shots at the slaves and diving back behind cover before the slaves could shoot back. It was like an alien shooting gallery of sorts. Gina, Colette, and Gordon became adept at firing their new shotguns before the wave of attackers was finally beaten back.

When the last Vortigaunt lay dead, Vance shouted at the group, "The lift to the warehouse facility is directly down the hall. Run, before another wave comes!"

They needed no further encouragement. They said their quick good-byes and left the fortress. Gordon looked back at Vance as he left, and for a split second there was a moment of revelation between them. Both realized that they would see each other again. They were walking down different paths, but they would intersect somewhere down the road.

Gordon turned and walked towards the lift.

**Black**** Mesa Command Center**

"Sir, the targets are definitely alive. They're freely moving into the warehouse facility as we speak."

Thompson gazed at the hazard suit console and confirmed that fact. The three yellow blips were moving together up the lift towards the warehouses. They were almost to the surface.

Thompson turned to one of his aides. "Sergeant, get a team ready. We're going to have a little surprise waiting for them."


	4. We've Got Hostiles!

**Black Mesa**

**By Patrick Williams**

Based on the storyline from Half-Life, a game from Valve Software and Sierra Studios. The Half-Life franchise is the property of Sierra Studios. All rights are reserved to Sierra Studios.

**Chapter 4 – "We've Got Hostiles!"**

**Surface Parking Facilities – Main Garage**

_Kill all humans._

The simple instructions repeated themselves, echoing endlessly in the Vortigaunt's mind.

_Kill all humans._

The Vortigaunts were simple minded, and designed to be so. Any inclination to resist or think freely had been bred out generations ago. They were no longer able to act consciously in any way. All that remained in their minds was the ability to process signals and carry out the wishes of the Nihilanth.

_Kill all humans._

The Nihilanth's army could feel no pain. That part of their brain had been subjugated to serve a single purpose. Success brought them pleasure, and failure brought them great pain. The Vortigaunts were powerless to resist their master as it guided them into battle time and time again. Without the power to think or plan for themselves, they were pawns on the chessboard laid out before them. The Nihilanth saw through their eyes and guided them as they fought.

_Kill all humans._

The Nihilanth only required a small portion of its massive cerebrum to guide the actions of the thousands of alien slaves attacking the target dimension. They were a trivial matter; expendable, and not worth its full attention. As it guided the alien slaves in the back of its mind, the Nihilanth prepared the next wave of the invasion.

_Kill all humans._

The Vortigaunt and its companions spotted a small group of humans in the hallway up ahead. The simple instructions suddenly made divine sense, and the Vortigaunt felt great anticipation of the pleasure it would receive when it fulfilled its mission. It eagerly rushed into combat, pouring its bodily energy at the humans. Each blast weakened the creature, but it didn't care. The pleasure it received after a kill would be worth the effort.

Suddenly, the Vortigaunt found itself on the ground, oozing yellow fluid from its chest. How this had come to pass it did not understand. The Vortigaunt looked up and saw the humans escaping. It had failed its mission.

The Vortigaunt felt true pain for the first time in its existence. With failure came punishment, and the creature writhed in the agony of its failure. It died there on the ground, as much from the pain administered by the Nihilanth as from the shotgun blast it had received in the chest.

"Come on, we need to move faster!" the security guard shouted at the scientists running behind him.

There were fifteen of them in all. The group of scientists had clawed their way out of the rubble and reached the surface. They had encountered great hardship on their journey and lost many of their companions, but they had made it to the surface; to the main parking garage. They were almost free.

The last Vortigaunt attack had been too close for comfort. The security guard had used his final shotgun shell to blow the final monster away. They wouldn't be able to defend themselves from another attack.

The parking garage was entirely devoid of activity. The scientists found a cluster of Black Mesa Security SUVs abandoned nearby, the keys still in the ignition. No one could fathom the fate of the original drivers.

They drove quickly through the parking garage, tires squealing as they rounded the corners. The exit barrier remained down, with no one manning the booth to open it for them. The security guard plowed his SUV through the gate, splintering the barrier. The SUVs raced through the surface complex towards a gap in the electrified fences that surrounded the facility. They were in the midst of a fuel storage facility, weaving in and out of the twenty foot tall cylindrical towers full of oil and other forms of fuels used by the facility.

A Bradley rounded a fuel tower and spotted the line of SUVs racing towards the main gate.

"This is Groundhog Fourteen requesting aerial assistance. Bogies spotted in the outer fuel storage facility; requesting a new set of eyes, over."

"This is Eagle Two; roger."

One of the orbiting Apaches swooped down low over the fuel storage facility. It held its weapons in check, realizing the potential disaster of loosing missiles in the field of fuel drums. It reported the progress of the SUVs through the maze of drums.

"Eagle Two here; bogies moving towards outer gate of fuel facility. Armadillos Five and Six proceed to coordinates to intercept, over."

Two Abrams had been summoned to the outer edge of the fuel towers. The tanks held back, waiting for the SUVs to clear the fuel drums before attacking. A blast within the fuel towers could trigger a dangerous chain reaction that would take them all out with it.

"Eagle Two; bogies approaching T-minus 10 seconds. Armadillos standby to fire, over."

The Abrams prepared to fire. Surely enough, ten seconds later, the lead SUV came into view, just barely clear of the fuel towers. A single blast transformed the vehicle into a smoldering wreck, effectively blocking the exit for the other SUVs. They came to an abrupt halt, the occupants jumping out and waving their arms wildly.

"Don't shoot!" they called, "We're with the science team!"

The commanders of the Abrams, looking out from the egress hatches atop the tanks, opened fire with their .50 caliber machineguns. Several pleading scientists were quickly taken down. The rest realized that the soldiers weren't going to save them after all, and took off on foot back into the fuel storage facility.

"This is Armadillo Six; bogies heading back into fuel towers. Send in the clowns."

The Bradley opened its rear hatch and the soldiers onboard quickly disembarked. They raced through the fuel towers towards the fleeing scientists. The scientists were grouping haphazardly, making them easy targets. A cluster of scientists stumbled right into their line of fire and was shredded by MP5 rounds.

"Eagle Two here; lone bogie making run towards the east side. We've got a shot and are taking it, over."

A scientist had made it to the eastern edge of the fuel storage facility and was attempting to climb the fence and escape. The Apache swooped in and opened fire with the 30mm cannon on its belly. The scientist absorbed several rounds in the chest before falling back to the ground.

The soldiers methodically killed off the remaining scientists one by one, guided by the Apache in the sky. When the last scientist lay dead, the tanks and Apache resumed their normal patrol routes. The surface once again belonged to them.

**Sector D – High Security Materials Storage Area **

The warehouse facility was a death trap. The entire level was rigged with trip mines and laser-activated automatic turrets. Several caches of weapons were found, containing grenades and ammunition for the turrets. None of this equipment was standard issue within Black Mesa's walls. It could mean only one thing: the military was already here.

Bennett was overjoyed. "We're home free! No aliens could get past these defenses. From here on out, our path is clear!"

Rosenberg was a voice of reason. "Easy, Walter. We still have to get through these defenses ourselves."

The hallway ahead of them was a three-dimensional maze of crisscrossing laser beams. Some would trigger explosive trip mines, and others would trigger the automatic turrets. There was no way to get through the beams without triggering something.

"Yes," Bennett agreed reluctantly, "This will prove to be quite a challenge. However, I'm sure that between our superior minds, we can calculate a way—"

Bennett was cut off as Calhoun pushed past him, a live grenade in his hand. He hurled the grenade into the center of the hallway and pulled the group behind the corner for cover.

A large explosion announced the grenade's detonation, and Calhoun peeked around the corner to see what was left. The hallway was entirely clear; the turrets and trip mines completely destroyed.

"You were saying, Doc?" Calhoun smirked.

"Yes, well," Bennett couldn't help but chuckle a bit, "Good work, Barney."

**Black Mesa Central Command**

"Sir, we've lost contact with several turrets in Sector D."

Major General Thompson glanced from the turret cameras to the H.E.V. station. Surely enough, the hazard suits were being tracked in the vicinity of the dead turrets. The scientists within the suits were better than he had expected. He chided himself for underestimating them. It was no matter, though, as he had several redundant backup plans for dealing with the hazard suits.

"Sergeant, make sure the troops on the surface are ready. The hazard suits are headed their way."

**Sector D – High Security Materials Storage Area **

The group had followed signs throughout the warehouse leading towards the freight elevators that would take them to the surface. They encountered more turrets and trip mines throughout the facility, but had little trouble in bypassing them. They were determined to let nothing stop them now that they were so close to their goal. Salvation was just a few meters away.

The soldiers had drawn straws to determine who would stay behind to baby-sit the automated defenses. The unluckiest soldier in the bunch cursed as he wandered around the base of the freight elevator. Here he was, in the middle of an alien invasion, and he was stuck baby-sitting turrets and trip mines. He glanced at his watch and checked in with Central Command.

"This is Rodriguez, Sector D warehouse; this sector is secure, over."

"Negative, Rodriguez. We're tracking at least three hostiles headed your way. Prepare for engagement, over!"

Rodriguez glanced at the room around him. He could hear them coming. He raised his MP5 to cover the ramp leading up to the warehouse facility, his back to the freight elevator. He prepared to fire.

Bennett had overheard the radio chatter and raced ahead of the group excitedly. The military was here to rescue them!

He rounded a corner and began to run down the ramp towards the freight elevator, shouting at the troop waiting for him, "Oh, thank god! We're rescued at last!"

The next few seconds seemed to pass in slow motion. One moment Bennett was running happily towards the soldier, and the next he was stopped dead in his tracks, several expanding red blotches appearing on his chest and back. He was surprised to find that he felt more coldness than pain; the sudden exposure to air chilling his innards as the bullets punctured his chest and shook his body violently. Bennett's thoughts were rudely interrupted by a bullet puncturing his skull, emptying its contents onto the ramp behind him.

The rest of the group had arrived just in time to see the red fog settle over Bennett's body. It was clear what had happened, but all of them wondered why it had happened. The soldiers were supposed to be here to save them, not kill them!

They ducked back behind the cover of the hallway, and Gordon called down to the soldier.

"Don't shoot! We're scientists. We don't mean you any harm!"

"Bullshit!" the soldier shouted back, a grenade arcing through the air into the hallway.

Calhoun leaped forward, picked the grenade up and chucked it back along its path. It bounced once in front of the soldier and exploded as he ran for cover. The soldier was thrown through the air. He looked back and saw that his legs had been torn to shreds and his MP5 thrown aside from the blast. He pulled himself across the ground towards the elevator, but stopped at the telltale sound of a shotgun being cocked by his ear.

"You have some explaining to do." Gordon said in a menacing voice no one present had known he had in him.

"D-don't hurt me!"

"Why did you shoot him? What are you really doing here?"

"We're c-containing the contamination."

"By killing everyone associated with the project?"

"W-we're just…" the soldier coughed, blood gurgling in his throat as he choked the words out, "…following orders!"

The soldier's head fell back, the lifeless eyes staring at the ceiling.

"We can't go to the surface anymore," Rosenberg sighed, calm as ever. _Could nothing faze him?_ "Unless you wish to end up like our former associate, that is."

"What can we do, then?" Gina demanded. "We could go back down to the cafeteria, but they aren't accomplishing anything. The only other way is up to the surface."

"No," Rosenberg corrected her. "There is another way. Hidden in this warehouse is an entrance to one of the oldest labs of the research facility. I can't explain it, exactly – it would take far too long – but there is technology within that lab that would help us escape Black Mesa for good."

"Do you care about anyone but yourself, Doctor?" Colette demanded. "Our friends are dying all around us; right in front of us! We have to help them. Running away and hiding is not an option!"

"You're a fool, Dr. Green. Your compassion will be the end of you. You can run to the surface and die if you wish, but I will not throw my life away so easily. You can come with me and escape, or die on your foolish crusade."

Gordon sat on a box, detached from the argument going on before him. The weight of the situation hit him all at once. _This is all my fault_, he knew. If he hadn't pushed that crystal into the analysis laser, none of this would have happened. Graham would still be alive. Bennett would still be alive. All of the countless other scientists and security guards who had died because of his mistake would still be here. Their deaths were on his conscience. He would never be able to wash their blood from his hands. There was only one thing he could do. He would fight with everything he had left; fight to save his friends and to clean up the mess he had created. He would die trying if he had to.

"I'm going to the surface," Gordon announced without emotion. "Who's going with me?"

Gina and Colette nodded in agreement. All eyes turned to Calhoun, who had been quiet up until this point.

"I uh…" Calhoun stammered. "I didn't sign on for this. I'm no soldier. If there's an easier way out of this place than going to the surface, I'm all for it."

Rosenberg smiled. "Strange, that the least educated among you would be the most logical and reasonable."

Calhoun took the near-insult in stride. "Doc, I'll help you out in any way I can if it helps get us the hell out of here."

Rosenberg nodded. "Good. I believe it's time that we went our separate ways, then. Gordon, Gina, Colette; I can only hope I'm wrong about your fates. Disagree as we might, we're on the same side here. Good luck."

"Good luck to you, too, Doctor," Gordon agreed, shaking Rosenberg's outstretched hand.

Calhoun too shook Gordon's hand, nodding a goodbye at Gina and Colette. Calhoun wondered if they would ever meet again. He hoped they would, under better circumstances.

The group parted ways. Gordon, Gina, and Colette boarded the freight elevator and waved a final goodbye to Rosenberg and Calhoun as the car rose. Rosenberg knew in the back of his mind that he would never see the trio alive again. It was a shame. He desperately could have used their help in activating the machine. However, Calhoun was more of a soldier than the three of them combined. He would be just the man to make the journey to Xen.

**Black Mesa Surface**

The freight elevator slowly rose towards the surface. The sounds of the desert could already be heard through the shaft. They could hear a helicopter hovering somewhere up above, as well. In hindsight, that should have been their first warning that something was amiss.

When the freight elevator reached the surface, the group realized instantly that they were in trouble. A line of soldiers waited for them, weapons drawn and aimed directly at them.

"Freeze!" a voice called out.

From the crowd of soldiers came several loud pops as projectiles flew through the air towards them. Before they could dodge them, the projectiles impacted the hazard suits, knocking the trio back into the freight elevator. Their suits erupted with electrical energy and they found themselves unable to move. The rotors that assisted their movement in the heavy suits froze as they were shorted out by power surges, effectively holding them in place.

The hazard suits had been taken down by NEMP rifles. Non-nuclear Electromagnetic Pulse weapons had been used for years by the police to disable vehicles in high speed chases. The military had developed their own version of the weapon that was significantly more powerful. The NEMP had been more than enough to disable the hazard suits.

The heavy hazard suits and their occupants were dragged out of the elevator and into the open air. Gordon, Gina, and Colette were powerless to resist as they were dragged through the expansive truck yard. They were propped up into a sitting position against a large metal trash bin. The soldiers left them there alone momentarily.

The truck yard was only lightly guarded. A few sentries were posted to the area, but they were few and far between. The military clearly didn't expect the hazard suits to be going anywhere anytime soon.

"Gordon, can you hear me?" a female voice echoed through a tiny speaker next to his ear.

"Yes, Gina?" Gordon asked, unable to turn his head to look at her.

"Shh!" Gina scolded, "They'll hear you! Use your suit's communicator. They have wholly independent power sources and weren't affected by the blast."

Gordon's fingers were thankfully free to move, and he made the proper motions to access the suit's HUD menu and activate the communicator. Anything he said would only be heard by Gina and Colette. The speaker wasn't loud enough to be heard by any casual observers.

"Better?" Gordon asked.

"Yes. Listen, Gordon. We're going to be okay. Our suits are more advanced than even you know. As we speak, our suits are repairing themselves. These suits are equipped with next-generation nanotechnology. In a few minutes, we'll be fully functional again. Until then, we need to play dead. Don't tell the soldiers anything! They can't hurt us through these suits, and they can't remove them without equipment buried in Sector C."

Colette spoke through her own communicator. "Someone's coming!"

Surely enough, an important looking figure stepped into the clearing, flanked by an entourage of advisors and military types. This man appeared to be in charge.

**Sector D – High Security Materials Storage Area**

Rosenberg led Calhoun deeper into the warehouse facility. Calhoun had never been cleared to enter this warehouse. It stored materials more classified than he would ever have access to see. Calhoun didn't particularly care to see what he had been missing, but he didn't like the feeling of not knowing where he was or where he was going.

Finally, Rosenberg seemed to find what he was looking for. It was a dead end; a hallway that led to a blank wall. Clearly, the architect or the contractor had made some mistake. Hallways weren't built unless they led somewhere. This hallway served no apparent purpose. Calhoun looked at Rosenberg oddly as he walked towards the blank wall. He didn't seem to care that there was nothing there.

Rosenberg paused for a moment, studying the wall. He began tapping different portions of the wall, muttering, "I know the button is around here somewhere…"

Calhoun approached the wall now. It was constructed of painted cinderblock. The bricks didn't line up properly with the other walls, suggesting that the wall had been added after the facility's original construction. Calhoun realized something must be hidden behind the wall.

Rosenberg continued probing the wall, looking for the button that would open the secret entrance. He was having no luck at all.

"Let me try, Doc." Calhoun suggested.

"How would you know— oh, I see." Rosenberg replied as he noticed a grenade in Calhoun's hands. Those things were coming in handy.

Rosenberg found cover as Calhoun chucked the grenade towards the wall. The plaster bricks exploded in a cloud of white dust, leaving behind a gaping hole in the wall, large enough for them to fit through.

"I must admit, Barney," Rosenberg gave a rare smile, "You're beginning to impress."

"I do what I can, Doc."

"I hope you have a few more tricks up your sleeve. We might need them, yet."

Calhoun wondered what that cryptic remark meant, but dismissed it for the moment.

Rosenberg led the way down the hidden hallway, which led rather anticlimactically to an old elevator shaft. They rode the rickety car down what felt like a long distance. The car groaned violently the entire trip, threatening to snap from its cables and fall at any moment. The elevator arrived without disaster, however, at the ground.

They stepped out of the elevator and approached a thick door on the opposite side of a small entryway. Rosenberg placed his handprint on a panel beside the door and waited as it confirmed his identity.

"Welcome back, Doctor Rosenberg," the door's mechanical voice announced.

The door slid open, revealing a cavernous room full of huge computers and strange-looking devices. Tremendous machines towered towards the ceiling, while others dangled from the ceiling towards the floor. Many scientists were present, checking gauges on the old machines and adjusting valves here and there. The place emitted an aura of importance that staggered Calhoun. Calhoun stared at the machinery around him, agape.

Rosenberg turned to Calhoun and smiled at his awkwardness.

"Welcome to the birthplace of Black Mesa, Mister Calhoun."

**Sector D – Surface Truck Yard**

Major General Thompson surveyed the three hazard suits and was satisfied that they posed no danger. Thompson was pleased with himself for having the foresight to bring the NEMP rifles along. At the time, he hadn't planned on using them, but his preparedness had paid off. Here were three scientists from Sector C. These were the ones responsible for this mess.

Thompson walked back and forth before the three hazard suits, pausing occasionally to stare into the reflective surface of the helmets. It was difficult to tell if there was really anyone within the suits, but he knew that they could hear him.

"Gordon Freeman, Gina Cross, and Colette Green. Yes, we know who you are. We also know what you have done. You three have single handedly brought this invasion upon us. For that, I should kill you right here. However, my orders are to keep you alive until you can be properly interrogated by our… government supervisor. Someone upstairs must be fond of you. If it was up to me, you'd be dead already."

Thompson appeared ready to go off into an angry rant, but one of his advisors ran to his side and spoke quietly. The sensitive aural sensors in the suit's helmet picked up the whispers and amplified them loudly enough to be heard.

"Sir, we've encountered heavy resistance around the Lambda Complex. Our troops have been unable to penetrate the automated defenses, and the scientists are using some experimental weapons. We don't stand a chance. Should I tell the men to pull back?"

"No. I'll go there myself. Get my Osprey ready to take off."

"Yes, sir."

Thompson turned back to the trio as the advisor ran off to carry out the General's instructions. "Well, it appears I have some urgent business to attend to. I trust you three won't be sneaking off while I'm gone."

The General chuckled as he walked away, the advisors resuming their flanking positions. A helicopter was parked not far away, and the entourage boarded it and flew off towards the Lambda Complex.

"Did you hear that, Gordon?" Colette asked through the communicator.

"Yes! Our friends are fighting back! Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"I think so. We need to get to the Lambda Complex and help."

"Yes," Gina agreed, "but the journey won't be easy. It's clear that the surface is controlled by the military. We'll have to get back underground and take a less direct route."

"Someone else is coming!" Colette announced.

Two soldiers walked towards them. One of them walked with an MP5 sub-machinegun swung over his shoulder, crowbar in hand, and the other walked with his combat shotgun drawn. The one with the crowbar went to work, trying to pry open Gordon's suit.

The soldiers chatted as if the three weren't even present.

"I killed me twelve dumbass scientists and not one of 'em fought back. This sucks."

"Tell me about it. What do you think of these three?"

"I hear they came from Ground Zero, where all this shit started. I wonder which one of them is responsible for this."

"We can ask them ourselves as soon as we get these suits opened up. What's this suit made of anyway? The crowbar isn't even denting it."

As the soldier worked the suits with the crowbar, the nanomachines within the suits hurried to complete their repairs. The shorts within the suit were almost fixed.

Gordon glared through his helmet at the soldier trying to open him up like a sardine can. He could do nothing but watch his futile efforts. Suddenly, a familiar voice echoed through the helmet. It belonged to neither Gina nor Colette. It was the suit itself speaking to him.

"Welcome to the H.E.V. Mach Four protective system, for use in hazardous environment conditions…"

The suit was back online! Gordon tested his arm and found that he could move freely. In an instant, he had grabbed the crowbar held by the soldier before him. A swift movement flipped the crowbar around, impacting the soldier's skull. He fell to the ground, bleeding from the forehead.

The other soldier couldn't believe what he was seeing. He acted quickly, firing a shotgun blast into Gordon's chest. Gordon was thrown backwards. Gina stood up and grabbed the butt of the shotgun, twirling it around and pushing it hard towards the soldier. The soldier's finger involuntarily depressed the trigger, sending a burst through his chest. The soldier fell to the ground, clutching his stomach and screaming in pain.

Gina and Colette raced to Gordon's side and helped him up. He was a little shaken, but otherwise unhurt. The suit had absorbed almost all of the force of the blast. The reactive armor hadn't even flinched at the point blank shotgun blast. Gordon picked up the shotgun from the dead trooper. Gina grabbed the MP5 and crowbar from the other body.

Shouts came from all around them as the previously lax soldiers realized the hazard suits were no longer incapacitated. MP5 fire came at them from all directions.

"We need to get out of here, before they use those rifles again!" Gordon shouted.

"There!" Colette replied, pointing towards a ventilation duct access grate across the truck yard.

The three scientists raced towards the duct, the soldiers hot on their trail. An unlucky soldier found himself stuck between the trio and the duct, firing his MP5 uselessly at the oncoming scientists. His bullets ricocheted off of their suits harmlessly. He was taken down by Gordon's shotgun and the MP5 was commandeered from his lifeless corpse by Colette. They were fully armed now.

They reached the duct, and Gordon used his mechanically augmented strength to open the grate as the two women dove in.

"Chivalry isn't dead, after all!" Gina said jokingly as she jumped.

Gordon made the jump himself just as the troops arrived at the grate, huffing and puffing.

The ventilation shaft they had fallen into was dark and cramped. They activated their suits' flash lights and saw that they had two possible directions to go. One duct seemed to lead back towards Sector D. The other led in the opposite direction, towards Sector E.

"We can get to the Lambda Complex through the Rocket Test Lab in Sector E. Let's get moving before the troops decide to come in after us."

They began crawling down the tiny ventilation duct.

"Fire in the hole!" a muffled voice shouted above them. The three scientists looked at each other in horror, and crawled for their lives.

A satchel charge fell from the grate into the ventilation shaft. Its explosion filled the duct and engulfed the hazard suits in white-hot flames. Their screams could barely be heard above the cacophony of burning oxygen and melting metal.


	5. Blast Pit

**Black Mesa**

**By Patrick Williams**

Based on the storyline from Half-Life, a game from Valve Software and Sierra Studios. The Half-Life franchise is the property of Sierra Studios. All rights are reserved to Sierra Studios.

**Chapter 5 – Blast Pit**

**Sector D – Classified Teleportation Laboratory**

Calhoun had finally overcome the shock of what he saw before him in the lab. He came to his senses and began asking the questions that had been burning through his skull since he had entered.

"What is this place, Doc?"

"This is where we first discovered the technology that made Black Mesa what it is today." Rosenberg explained. "This is where we built our first teleporter."

"Your first what?" Calhoun asked skeptically.

"Yes, you heard me correctly. We've been manufacturing teleportation technology for years, Barney. Many years ago, we built our first teleporter right in this lab. That's what we hoped it would be, at least. After getting the device up and running, we tossed small objects, like oranges, into it and watched the results. The objects disintegrated, never to be found again.

"Our superiors considered the project a complete failure and began to shut this lab down. We had apparently wasted billions of dollars constructing an elaborate garbage disposal system. Several of us felt otherwise, however. I was among the group that believed that we had actually constructed a dimensional transporter. We decided to test our theory. We sent a robot equipped with a tracking device through the portal. The results were fascinating. According to the tracking device, the robot had disappeared without a trace. _But we were still getting a signal from it._ The explanation was obvious."

Calhoun stared blankly, wondering if he was really supposed to realize the explanation.

Rosenberg continued. "The robot had traveled to another dimension. As soon as the dimensional portal closed, we lost contact with the robot. But we were encouraged by our findings. If we could target a location in another dimension, we could also target a location back to our own dimension. Teleportation was still possible!"

Rosenberg continued his tale. Upon hearing of their results, the government had swooped in to fully reactivate the facility, putting it under military control. They continued our work as before, but it became clear they were now developing the teleporter for military use, which disturbed most of the scientists involved. A teleporter would sway any battle in one side's favor, and would give the United States a stranglehold on global politics. That kind of power, if left unchecked, would be dangerous to everyone. However, they continued working for the good of science. It wasn't long before they had developed a portal large enough to send a manned expedition to the other dimension. Their initial expeditions were spectacular, both in the magnitude of their success and failure.

"The dimension was completely alien to us in almost every way," Rosenberg explained. "Yet it had an oxygen-based atmosphere much like our own, albeit less polluted. Gravity was much lower than what we were used to, but we soon found a way to navigate the strange environment. We called the place Xen, from the Greek word _xenos_, meaning 'stranger.' Our expedition was a first contact team. They encountered incredible life forms and brought back samples that would keep our scientists busy for years to come. The most remarkable discovery made was the Xenite crystal. This crystal housed great energy, and when harnessed it could be used as a beacon to guide inter-dimensional travel. We realized rather quickly the potential uses of this crystal. If we could build a relay beacon on Xen, we could use it to teleport to and from places on Earth without ever setting foot in the alien environment. We excitedly gathered up as many Xenite samples as we could carry before taking the portal trip back to Earth. Our first team never encountered the more violent aspect of the Xen ecology."

Their team had wasted little time before heading back to Xen. They brought along with them the materials and technology to construct a teleportation beacon. They had developed a device that could be attached to a large Xenite crystal to act as a relay point for any dimensional travelers. It was a simple matter of finding a large enough crystal and activating the device. But like most things, it was never as simple as it seemed.

"The mission went off without a hitch at first. Our team went in, attached the relay beacon, and reported through the portal that the device was up and running. Back home, we began testing it. We found it was a simple matter to teleport objects to and from sides of the room. They disappeared in a flash of electricity and reappeared on the other end completely unscathed. I volunteered to be the first human test subject. It was a fascinating experience, and I was merely traveling across the room. I reappeared unharmed, and the experiment was pronounced a colossal success. We had developed the world's first true teleporter! Aside from an unfortunate incident involving one of my colleagues and a house fly, the process worked flawlessly."

While they had been celebrating their success, they had forgotten to monitor the transmissions through the portal from Xen. They didn't know of their disaster until it was far too late to do anything to help. Rosenberg sighed. "The recordings of their dying screams still haunt my memory to this day. Something had been awakened by the activation of the relay beacon, and it had destroyed our entire team. They were never heard from again."

Several scientists within earshot hung their heads at the thought. They tried to forget the memory and resume working. Rosenberg continued his story.

The military had quickly taken over and investigated the disaster. They sent teams of their own, which all met with the same result: total annihilation. The creatures soon located the relay device and deactivated it. They had been unable to reactivate it since. "This lab was shut down shortly afterwards," Rosenberg continued. "We did build another, much larger teleportation chamber in the Lambda Complex, but we haven't dared send another team to their doom. Other than the alien samples we brought back from Xen, and the crystals, we've had no contact with the dimension for years."

"Until today, that is," Calhoun corrected.

"Yes, quite right," Rosenberg agreed soberly. "Gordon Freeman was coerced into activating a makeshift relay device here on Earth. When he put that Xenite crystal into the analysis laser, he triggered a beacon so powerful it must have given away our presence to the aliens on Xen. It was a simple matter of aiming their dimensional portals at the source and attacking. Dr. Breen has started a war, and for the life of me I can't figure out why."

"Hell if I know, sir." Calhoun shrugged. "I'm just eager to stay out of the way for now."

"Yes, those are my sentiments exactly. We can flee this place through the teleporters we developed here. It's a simple matter of targeting a location outside of the military's control and escaping."

"Hold on, Doc. I didn't understand half of what you said, but I thought you told me that the aliens deactivated that relay thing. How are we going to target a location on Earth if all we have is a machine that sends us to the other dimension?"

"Yes, well, that's where you come in, I'm afraid. We need you to go to Xen and reactivate the relay beacon. We only have enough power to send one person to Xen. I had hoped to send Gordon, Gina, or Colette. Their hazard suits would have made the job a simple one. However, they chose not to come with us. You're the only chance we have of making it out of here alive, Barney."

Calhoun stared at Rosenberg dumbstruck. They were expecting him to go to Xen and fight off an entire army of those monsters. What choice did he have, though? There was an army of monsters here, as well, and an army of his own kind that wanted to kill him every bit as much as the aliens. Barney gulped as he considered his options.

"Okay, I'll do it." Calhoun said resignedly. "When do I leave, Doc?"

**Sector D/E Ventilation System**

Gordon awoke with a pounding headache. The force of the blast had thrown him into the duct wall, knocking him out for a time. He couldn't tell how long he had been unconscious. A quick survey with his suit's flashlight revealed the damage caused by the satchel charge. The only thing left of the duct behind them was a mass of torn metal. At least no one would be following them. Lying beside Gordon were the bodies of Gina and Colette.

Gordon clenched his fists in rage, directed mostly at himself. He had lost two more friends; two more lives wasted because of his mistake. How many more would die because of what he had done? Why was he, the one responsible for all of this, the only one surviving? Guilt clutched Gordon's heart with an iron fist.

"Are you okay, Gordon?" a weak voice, belonging to Gina, asked over the communicator.

Gordon looked back at the bodies in surprise. They were beginning to stir.

"You're alive!" Gordon exclaimed, his spirits restored in an instant.

"Thanks to our hazard suits," Colette groaned. "Our suits absorbed the brunt of the explosion, but we won't be able to take another blast like that. Check your power level. My suit is almost completely drained."

Gordon waved a hand in the air, bringing up the power level display. It was just as Colette had said. His suit was almost out of power, hovering around the ten percent level. If the power level ever dropped to zero, they would once again be immobilized and as good as dead. They needed to find a recharge station, and fast.

The group continued crawling through the ducts towards Sector E. They crawled without the aid of their flashlights, as they needed to conserve what little power they had left in their suits. They were as good as blind without them. Gordon crawled in the lead, feeling ahead in the darkness for any drop offs in the duct. They had made it too far to get killed by falling down into a hole.

As Gordon led the way around a corner, he stopped upon hearing a disturbing noise in the distance. It was the distinct pitter-patter of tiny feet crawling down the duct ahead of them. Something was coming towards them.

Gordon stared into the darkness ahead, the crawling noises getting louder by the moment. Even though he was almost out of power, he needed to see what was coming at them. Gordon activated his head-mounted flashlight and peered into the darkness.

A head-crab was crawling right at him, several meters away. Normally the head-crab would pose a minimal threat to someone in a hazard suit, but with such a low power level Gordon didn't know how long the reactive armor would hold up. Gordon shuddered at the thought of becoming one of those zombies.

With a sense of urgency, Gordon reached down to remove the shotgun from the hazard suit's holster. He tried to bring the weapon around, but found there wasn't enough space in the cramped ventilation duct to do so. Gordon squirmed around as he struggled to turn the shotgun around to face the oncoming head-crab.

The head-crab, as if it sensed the moment of weakness, chose this moment to strike. It leaped horizontally through the air, covering the remaining distance in an instant. Gordon brought the shotgun around at the last possible moment and transformed the alien projectile into a blob of yellow blood that splattered across his helmet. Gordon sighed heavily, dropping the shotgun as he relaxed.

The grate leading to Sector E was just ahead.

**Lambda Complex – Surface Entrance**

The entrance to the Lambda Complex was a war zone. It had obviously been designed with defense in mind. The layout was much like that of a medieval castle gatehouse. However, in place of arrow loops, the complex featured a deadly array of automated turrets.

There were simply too many turrets for the troops to advance into the base. The turrets were strategically located to prevent anything from approaching the facility's entrance without prosecution. Unlike the military turrets, which responded to visual input and acted independently, the Lambda Complex turrets seemed to work together, predicting the actions of the soldiers. The turrets were guided by artificial intelligence, learning their tactics and adapting to defeat them. Each turret was heavily shielded and alternated its firing pattern, preventing an organized approach. The soldiers had come close to disabling the defensive perimeter using their NEMP rifles, but the remaining turrets had adapted their firing patterns to cover for the disabled turrets. The disabled turrets had utilized their tiny nanites to repair themselves, and the other turrets had returned to their previous firing patterns as soon as the repairs were complete.

The first solution had been to send in the tanks, which the turrets should have been unable to penetrate. The tanks had little more success, however. Every time one of the tracked vehicles would approach the entrance, the Lambda Complex's personnel would be waiting for them. Lambda's personnel were armed with weapons the likes of which the soldiers had never seen. Powerful laser rifles penetrated the thick armor of the tanks, rupturing their fuel tanks with explosive results. The scientists would open tiny loopholes in the surface gate and fire the laser rifles at the tanks, destroying them before they knew what had hit them. The smell of burning fuel and flesh overpowered the will of the attacking troops. The soldiers had no choice but to hold back, hidden behind their sandbag bunkers.

Major General Thompson surveyed the carnage from the sky onboard the orbiting Osprey. The Osprey hovered just out of reach of the automated defenses. The pace of the battle was entirely unacceptable. If they were going to stick to their timetable, they needed to be inside of the Lambda Complex right now. His men were getting slaughtered by the automated defenses and the fantastic weapons employed by the Lambda personnel. His troops were nothing more than fish in a barrel down there.

The General had discovered a solution, however. He had captured three hazard suits from the scientists at Ground Zero. Not only did the scientists provide martyrs to blame when the dust settled, but their hazard suits would allow him to get three of his men through Lambda's defenses unharmed. They provided the perfect disguise, as well as enough armor to stop anything the Lambda scientists could throw at them if they were discovered. It was a perfect plan.

One of the General's aides shouted over the fray, "Sir, incoming radio traffic for you!"

The General picked up the transmitter. "This is Thompson."

"Sir, we've lost contact with the hazard suits!" a muffled voice shouted over the radio. "They somehow repaired the damage caused by the NEMP rifles and caught the sentries off guard. They're gone, sir!"

"Follow them!" the General fumed.

"Unable to, sir! We tried to get them with a satchel charge, but the duct they escaped through was blocked by the blast."

"Are you tracking them?" the General growled.

"Yes, sir! They're approaching the rocket test labs in Sector E. We're sending a team down there now."

"Very well. Inform me of any new developments. Out."

The General cursed loudly. Things had gone south in a hurry. He had fallen behind in his timetable for getting into the Lambda Complex and he had lost the hazard suits that could have gotten him past its defenses. This was becoming a mess.

**Sector E – Experimental Propulsions Silo **

The intrepid scientists were fast approaching, and the man in the gray suit was almost out of time. He was preparing a little surprise for them when they arrived.

The man in the suit had been surprised to hear of the scientists' capture. He didn't think that the General had possessed the foresight to bring NEMP rifles along. The military had successfully disabled the scientists' hazard suits. However, the General hadn't known about the nanotechnology within the suits designed to repair such damage. At any moment, he would be receiving a call from the General announcing that the hazard suits had escaped.

The man's phone vibrated in its pocket right on schedule.

"What is it, Mister Thompson?"

"We've lost the hazard suits, sir. They somehow repaired the damage caused by the NEMP rifles and escaped. Our only route to follow them was cut off when we tried to dispatch them with explosives. We're tracking them approaching the Sector E rocket test labs as we speak. I had hoped to use their hazard suits to overcome Lambda's defenses. Without them, I don't think we'll be able to get through. I have a team headed down to meet them when they exit the ventilation system. How should we proceed?"

"Call off the search party, Mister Thompson," the man in the suit hissed. "I'm already ahead of you. I anticipated their… escape and have laid a little trap for them down here. A unique opportunity has presented itself. A certain creature is trapped in the rocket test silo. Mister Freeman and his companions will have a difficult time overcoming it. Your men would do well to steer clear of the area. I would advise that you send your men instead to the Track Control Facility below Sector E. In the event that Freeman's party is able to overcome the creature in the rocket lab, you will be able to stop them there. Shut down the power to the rail system and force them to come to you. However, it's highly unlikely that they will make it that far. They will die at the hands of the Tentacle. You can pry the hazard suits off of their corpses and use them to catch up on your timetable. I need access to the Lambda Complex. Now."

As Gordon neared Sector E, a strange sound reverberated through his ears. A horrible pounding noise echoed through the duct ahead of them. Gordon risked a few more seconds of precious power to light the duct ahead to verify that whatever was making the noise wasn't threatening their progress. Whatever was making that noise must have been doing so from Sector E.

Several minutes later, the scientists emerged from a grating above Sector E. The ventilation duct had ended directly beside the rocket test lab. The rocket test laboratory was an ancient missile silo, large and cylindrical in shape. The silo was used to test rockets in a controlled environment before they were launched into space. The trio stood in a hallway circling the outside layer of the silo. The pounding noise had grown in intensity as they approached, and it reached near deafening levels as they stood beside the silo. Whatever was making the deafening noise was coming from within the test lab itself.

"What's going on in there?" Gordon shouted above the din.

Gina shrugged. "Whatever's making that noise, it doesn't sound very friendly!"

"We can get to the rocket test lab control room this way. Come on; let's see what's going on in there!" Colette shouted.

They drew their weapons and proceeded carefully towards the control room. Along the way, they encountered a scientist bleeding profusely from the chest. He lay on the ground, rapidly bleeding to death. The color had already left the scientist's face. The dying scientist looked up upon their approach.

"Fire the rocket engine! Destroy the damned thing… before it grows any larger…"

The scientist's head rolled back, the eyes lifeless.

_What could have done this to him?_, Gordon wondered.

The dead scientist had a gaping hole in the center of his chest. It was as if a gigantic spike had been driven through him, then removed. Whatever had done this must have been very large. The pounding noise from within the rocket lab seemed even more ominous now.

The scientists made their way into the control room and finally caught a glimpse of the creature trying to pound its way out of the rocket test silo. Through the control room's glass wall they could see what had been making so much noise. It was every bit the monster they expected it to be.

From the center of the silo, three tremendous tentacles had emerged. Each of the three thick tentacles was at least 40 feet long, and featured a menacing claw that pounded against the silo walls in vain. The tentacles seemed to act independently, but they were no doubt part of a single larger creature that had spawned beneath the silo.

The silo itself had been designed to withstand the destructive force of a powerful rocket blast, thus the tentacles had been unable to escape so far. By quirk of fate, the tentacles had emerged directly beneath the silo's rocket. All they would have to do is fire the rocket to send the creature back to the hell it came from.

They wasted little time gawking at the horrific creature. Gordon, Gina, and Colette raced across the control room towards the rocket firing controls. Gordon pounded the launch button.

Nothing happened.

Gina called from across the room. "The power and fuel lines have been disabled. Without its fuel sources, the rocket is useless!" She pounded the wall of computers in frustration

As soon as Gina hit the wall, the tentacles snapped to attention, stopping their wall-pounding instantly. A tentacle slowly rose up to the level of the control room and gazed through the glass window at them.

"_Nobody move._" Gina's tense voice whispered over the communicator.

The three scientists stopped in their tracks. Gordon got a good look at the tentacle and realized that it didn't have any eyes. He wondered how the tentacle had detected them. The tentacle hovered outside of the control room window, clearly waiting for something to happen.

Gordon took a nervous step backwards, painfully aware of the loud noise his suit made on the metal floor.

As soon as Gordon had taken that step the tentacle pounced, smashing through the control room window and rushing towards Gordon. The tentacle began pounding the ground of the control room every few feet as it approached Gordon. He stood there like a deer in headlights, afraid that another movement would give himself away once and for all.

The tentacle was only a few feet away when it stopped. Gunfire could be heard within the rocket silo. As the tentacles had stopped before, they stopped now, trying to determine the location of the disturbance. The tentacle quickly evacuated the control room, leaving Gordon standing there breathless.

The scientists hurried to what was left of the control room window and gazed down to see what was happening in the silo.

Several security guards were running around the silo in a last ditch attempt to destroy the tentacles. They circled around the creature, firing their pistols up at the towering appendages. Every time a gun fired, the closest tentacle would hone in and strike at the point where the gun had been fired from. The security guards did a valiant job of distracting the monster, but their weapons were painfully ineffective. The bullets bounced off of the tentacles' thick skin, ricocheting harmlessly around the silo. It was clear that it was only a matter of time before the tentacles won the battle.

One of the security guards fired a round off and turned to run, but he tripped over his own feet as he turned. He hit the ground with a loud thump, and a tentacle was on him in an instant. The tentacle impaled the guard, lifting him into the air still kicking and screaming. The tentacle disappeared into the hole beneath the silo, probably headed for a mouth within. The tentacle reemerged a few seconds later, no sign of the guard remaining.

The other guards continued fighting, but it was clear that the death of their comrade had dampened their spirits beyond the point of return. Several of them turned and ran, only to be snatched up by tentacles as they neared the silo's hatches. The tentacles slaughtered the remaining resistance.

Once again, the silo was empty and the tentacles resumed pounding on the walls in a desperate attempt to escape. They seemed to have completely forgotten about the invaders in the control room.

"There's no way out of here," Colette sighed. "There used to be a walkway through the silo that led to the exit. Those tentacles made short work of it. The ducts behind us are blocked, and the tentacles destroyed the only other way out. We're finished!"

"I've got a plan," Gordon said quickly.

Gina and Colette listened attentively as he explained his plan, and politely waited until he was done before responding.

"You're nuts!" they both proclaimed as one.

"It's the only way! We can escape through the ventilation pipes beneath the silo. Those tentacles are coming up through those pipes. We'll have to fire the rocket and destroy them before we can get in. We need to activate the power and fuel lines. We can do that within the silo itself."

"Gordon, you'd have to be crazy to go in there!" Gina said, shaking her head. "You saw what that thing did to those security guards."

"With the three of us working together, we can distract the thing long enough to let one of us to access the power and fuel lines." Gordon replied reassuringly. He wasn't sure he believed his own words. It was their only option, however.

"What do we have that can distract something that large?" Gina asked.

Gordon thought for a moment and opened up one of the storage pockets of his suit. He pulled out several of the grenades they had retrieved from Sector D.

"Of course!" Colette said excitedly. "This might just work! That creature seems to respond to noise and vibration. The grenades will distract that thing while one of us goes to work activating the power and fuel lines."

"All right, it's worth a try, I suppose." Gina admitted. "It's not like we have any choice. We can't go back, and the only way forward is through the pipes beneath the silo. Let's do it."

The plan seemed much more foolish, however, as they entered the silo. The tentacles were even larger and more menacing up close. To their relief, the beast didn't seem to notice their entrance. It continued to pound the walls of the silo, desperate to escape. The trio must have seemed like buzzing flies to the beast; not worth the effort to swat. That would change soon enough.

Gordon spotted the power and fuel line panel on the opposite side of the silo, directly behind the towering tentacles. He looked back at Gina and Colette, who nodded in readiness. It was now or never.

Gordon crept around the silo, dodging the flying tentacles as he moved. He fought the urge to dive to the ground several times, realizing that the noise he would make would give his position away. If he could make it around the silo without disturbing the tentacles it would make his job a lot easier.

Despite the ear-splitting pounding from the tentacles, Gordon could still hear his heart pumping furiously. He wondered if the tentacle would be able to hear his heartbeat as well. His heart seemed to be pounding louder than the tentacles. If the tentacles stopped their pounding, even for a moment, he would surely be discovered and crushed.

Before he realized how far he had walked, Gordon was standing in front of the panel. Gordon quietly breathed a sigh of relief. He was halfway done. He inspected the controls, looking for a way to reactivate the power and fuel lines. The lines had been disabled manually from this point. Why anyone had been foolish enough to do this was beyond Gordon, but he was grateful that the problem would be easy to remedy. He reached down and flipped a switch that would reactivate the power and fuel lines.

To Gordon's horror, the panel began emitting a deafening klaxon alarm. The panel was warning Gordon that the rocket was ready for launch, and that he should evacuate lest he be caught in the blast. Gordon knew this already, so the only purpose the alarm served was to announce his presence to the tentacles.

The tentacles swooped in to destroy the panel, forcing Gordon to dive out of their way. His suit hit the metal floor of the silo with a loud bang, and he realized instantly that the gig was up. The tentacles knew he was there.

Gina and Colette swung into action, throwing two grenades at the far side of the silo. They exploded spectacularly, doing no damage to the tentacles but distracting them nicely. Two of the tentacles abandoned Gordon and began swinging violently towards where the grenades had exploded. One tentacle remained, striking the ground repeatedly around Gordon, trying to impale him. Gordon crawled out of their way, desperate to escape but equally desperate to remain silent. Despite his efforts to remain quiet, the tentacle was getting nearer and nearer to Gordon every time it struck the ground. The powerful clawed tentacle was about to hit its mark.

Gina and Colette continued tossing grenades to distract the tentacles, but to their horror they could not distract the tentacle on Gordon's trail. The other two tentacles were easily fooled into following the explosions, but one of the tentacles was determined to find Gordon. They would have to do something quickly, or Gordon would be crushed beneath the gigantic claw.

Gina took out her crowbar and began pounding the wall beside her. Colette glanced over, mortified, but quickly realized what Gina was trying to do. It was foolish, but necessary to save Gordon's life.

"Get ready to run, Gordon!" Gina called over the communicator. She hoped the communicator was as sound proof as it had been advertised.

The three tentacles stopped their pounding at the echoing sound of the crowbar. These were new noises, and the tentacles struggled to identify where they came from. Gordon saw his opportunity and raced across the silo, throwing caution to the wind. At the same moment, Gina threw her crowbar behind Gordon, bouncing it off of the silo wall and creating a loud clang. The tentacle that had been chasing Gordon immediately pounced where the crowbar had landed, shattering the tool. Gordon continued running, not stopping to look behind him. Colette tossed more grenades to the opposite side of the silo, desperate to keep the tentacles at bay for a few more seconds. Gordon was almost there; just a few more feet to the hallway and the safety beyond.

The clawed tentacle missed Gordon by inches as he raced into the hallway. Instead, the tentacle grabbed hold of Gina and pulled her into the silo kicking and screaming. As Gordon and Colette looked on in horror, Gina was tossed about the silo like a rag doll. Gina began to lose consciousness as she was spun about the room.

"Fire… the rocket…" Gina managed to gasp over the communicator.

"Gina, no!" Colette screamed, running into the silo. She fired her MP5 up at the tentacle holding Gina, realizing that her efforts were in vain. A second tentacle swooped in and grabbed Colette, pulling her into the air with Gina.

Gordon cursed and ran towards the control room. He didn't have much time before the tentacles either crushed both Gina and Colette or shoveled them into its mouth below. They were dead either way, and Gordon realized there was only one chance to save them now. He pounded the launch button and watched through the broken glass as the rocket fired into the heart of the tentacles.

An inhuman scream echoed through the silo as the heat began tearing through the thick skin of the creature. Gordon tried to gaze into the silo to see what had happened to Gina and Colette, but the glare of the rocket blast prevented him from ascertaining their fate. One thing was for certain, however. The creature was dying a painful death.

Gordon's helmet prevented him from detecting the dizzying smell of burning flesh permeating the walls of the silo. Had he detected it he would have wondered if the smell was from the creature or from its intended victims. Before long the dying screams of the tentacles fell silent, and the rocket blast ended. The silo was quiet for the first time, and the silence was palpable.

Gordon wasted no time in getting down to the silo to see what remained of Gina and Colette. Deep down, he realized they must be dead. Their power levels had been low to begin with. The blast would have eaten away the rest of their power and their armor would have become powerless to protect them from the blast of the rocket. Gordon held out a slim hope, however.

The silo was a mess. The tentacle had apparently died an explosive death, showering the walls of the silo in yellow blood. Gina and Colette's bodies had been tossed to the sides of the silo, where they lay motionless. Things didn't look good, but Gordon had seen this happen before. He refused to give into his pessimistic nature and give up hope. They had to be alive!

Gordon shook one of the bodies. "Wake up, Gina! Wake up!"

"Gordon, stop shaking me!" Gina moaned over the communicator. "I'm bruised enough as it is…"

"You're alive!" Gordon exclaimed.

"Barely. My suit is completely drained. I can't move at all. Without any power, I'm stuck here."

"There's a hazard recharge station on the other side of the silo!" Colette announced happily.

"Why didn't I see that before?" Gordon groaned. "Of course they would have a hazard suit station in here. This is exactly the type of environment hazard suits were designed for. I wish I had seen that earlier."

"Don't worry, Gordon. We wouldn't have wanted to stand still long enough to recharge with those tentacles around anyway. Now if you would be so kind as to drag us to that station and power us up, we can the hell out of here!"

Gordon charged his own suit up, and used its mechanical augmentation to drag the other suits across the room and charge their suits up as well. In a matter of minutes they were up and running again at full power.

"It looks like the ventilation pipe is unblocked now." Gina said, surveying the gaping hole beneath the silo. "We can probably get to the freight tracks through there and use the trains to get anywhere in the facility."

"We can take the trains all the way to the Lambda Complex. It should be all down hill from here!" Colette beamed.

"Let's just hope there's nothing down there left to block our path." Gordon said, playing the voice of reason.

"If they know what's best for them, they'll head for the hills when they see us coming," Gina smirked. "If we can take on those tentacles, nothing can stop us!"

"I don't know…" Gordon said skeptically. "I can't help but think that this was only the beginning…"

**Sector E – Track Control Facility**

The soldiers had deactivated the power across the entire track line. No one would be able to use the trains without coming through them.

The troops had established a mobile command point directly in front of the power control room. Several teams of men were assigned to protect the position. They had heavily fortified themselves with sandbag bunkers and rifle emplacements. Pairs of sentries patrolled the halls surrounding their command point.

One of these sentry pairs patrolled the cavernous tunnels leading to the rocket test labs. They had reports that their targets were approaching through the test silos and that among their targets was Gordon Freeman. Gordon Freeman was responsible for the disaster that brought the alien threat upon them. The sentry pair considered it an honor that they had been chosen to engage Freeman first. They manned their post with vigilance, eager to brag to their buddies that they had been the ones to bag the bastard responsible for this mess.

"Warning!" the automated public address system announced. "Unauthorized detonation detected in Experimental Propulsions Silo!"

The sentries looked at each other nervously. Freeman must be up to something. They had heard stories about his daring escape from the surface. Freeman had played possum and murdered several of their buddies when they let their guard down. The sentries checked their clips and aimed their rifles at the hallway leading to the rocket test labs. Freeman wouldn't get past them so easily.

A rumbling noise could be heard around them, no doubt part of the detonation Freeman had caused. The lights in the tunnel flickered and died as the power drained from the sector. The emergency lighting system kicked in, bathing the area in an eerie red tint. _Is Freeman trying to take the entire facility with him?_

A few seconds later, the rumbling stopped. The tunnel fell silent around them, the only noise coming from the buzzing emergency lights. It was difficult to see through the red lighting, but they seemed to be alone. A sudden rumble made them think otherwise. A few seconds later, they heard a second rumbling. It sounded as if something very large was coming towards them. The rumbling became louder and quicker as whatever was causing the noise approached. The sentries nervously aimed their weapons through the darkness. _What is Freeman up to?_

The rumbling became louder and quicker still. Then, as suddenly as it had begun, the rumbling stopped. It was only at that moment that one of the sentries thought to check _behind_ them. The soldier turned slowly around, where a gigantic leg was silhouetted by the red emergency lighting. The soldier slowly turned his gaze upwards until he was looking almost straight up. A giant creature towering above them gazed back, flexing its jaws menacingly, its teeth reflecting the red light like mirrors.

The creature roared, swatting the soldiers across the room with a powerful backhand. They struggled to their feet and tried to bring their weapons up to fire. They were dead before they could get a shot off.


	6. Power Up

**Black Mesa**

**By Patrick Williams**

Based on the storyline from Half-Life, a game from Valve Software and Sierra Studios. The Half-Life franchise is the property of Sierra Studios. All rights are reserved to Sierra Studios.

**Chapter 6 – Power Up**

**Black Mesa Surface**

Major General Thompson had seen enough of the Lambda Complex. His troops were proving to be completely ineffective. He would let them continue their efforts, but unless the situation changed dramatically he would have to call in reinforcements. The General's Osprey flew him back towards Central Command at its best speed.

The detonation in Sector E could be heard above the rotors of the helicopter.

"What the hell was that?" Major General Thompson demanded to no one in particular.

The General's staff looked at each other nervously, afraid to admit their ignorance. Fortunately for them, the radio answered the General's question for them.

"Sir, there was just an unauthorized detonation in the rocket test silo. I don't know what they were trying to accomplish, but other than some temporary power loss in Sector E, there was no apparent damage. Power has been restored to all sections."

"Where are the scientists now?"

"They're approaching the train line. Our troops have disabled power across the line, and the scientists will have to go through our command point before restoring power."

"Good. Make sure the troops know that _Gordon Freeman_ is coming."

**Sector E – Propulsion Ventilation System**

Gordon, Gina, and Colette found the ventilation pipes to be surprisingly roomy, designed to vent the byproducts of the rocket blasts. The sides of the pipes were bathed in the yellow blood of the tentacled creature that had spawned and died there. The explosive power of the rocket had completely disintegrated the creature, and were it not for the yellow muck and the stench, one might not have realized that the creature had come through here.

The pipes were dark, but now that the trio had fully charged their hazard suits they didn't hesitate to use their suits' flashlights to light their way. They aimed their MP5 sub-machine guns into the darkness in front of them, ready for any unseen threat.

The pipes led to a cavernous room used to bleed off the heat from the rocket blasts. Powerful fans on the ceiling pumped the air towards the ceiling, clearing the room of the thick smoke caused by the test rocket. The room had an emergency egress hatch that led directly to the tunnels of the Sector E Train Line. They were very close to their goal.

"There!" Gina called excitedly. She pointed across the tunnel to a train car parked and waiting. Unlike the comfortable, plush train cars of the Black Mesa Transit System, these cars were cold and hard, more like mine carts than the luxurious trains they were used to. They weren't complaining, however. This train car would take them safely through Black Mesa right beneath the military's noses. With any luck, they would be at the Lambda Complex within the hour.

However, Murphy's Law was still in effect. Anything that could go wrong was indeed going wrong. The train wasn't powered. As far as they could tell, the line itself was completely disabled.

"Maybe the rocket launch tripped a circuit breaker." Colette wondered out loud. "If we can find the power generator, we can restore power. We can't give up, yet."

They wandered through the tunnels for what seemed like ages before arriving at the transit hub. The hub represented the heart of Sector E's train line. All trains coming and going from the sector passed through the hub before reaching their destination. The train lines came and went across a rotating turntable in the center of the hub. From this hub, a hallway led directly to the track control facility. If they were going to reactivate power across the train line, they would be able to do so from there.

One very large problem remained, however.

The gargantuan beast standing in the center of the hub towered nearly to the cavernous room's ceiling, at least twenty feet tall. The monster was nearly as thick as it was tall, with powerful arms ending in bazooka-like appendages. The monster's head was placed near the center of its body; its single eye locked shut as it rocked back and forth idly. Its body was covered with blue armor that reflected the hub's lighting like the skin of a beetle.

Fortunately for the scientists, the creature hadn't noticed their presence yet. Its eye remained closed as they watched from the protective shadows of the tunnel. The monster emitted a rhythmic humming noise, as if it was snoring or purring. To all outward appearances, the beast was asleep on its feet.

Taking their chances, the scientists crept across the outside edges of the transit hub, careful not to disturb the beast's slumber. They slowly but steadily approached the entrance to the Track Control Facility.

**Sector E – Track Control Facility**

Throughout the facility, the soldiers became increasingly uneasy. News of the sentries' disappearance had trickled down through the chain of command and they all understood what the news meant. Freeman was coming their way.

Colonel Draheim knew his troops were getting nervous. It was time to fill them in.

"Listen up, people," the Colonel announced over the radio, "We've got hostiles headed our way. We believe that Freeman is among them. You are ordered to shoot on sight. We tried negotiating with these bastards on the surface, and there are several dead men to show for it. Expect engagement very soon, over."

Draheim toured the command point, checking to make sure that everything was in place. He knew the approaching attackers were equipped with next-generation hazard suits, making them virtually impermeable to small arms fire. To counter this, the Colonel had equipped his team with NEMP rifles to stop them in their tracks. The problem came in getting the suits within the NEMP's range. The NEMP rifle only had an effective range of about ten meters. The soldiers would have to wait until the hazard suits were within 30 feet before they would be able to take them down. However, if they merely held their fire until the suits were within range, their prey would smell trouble and flee before they even had a chance to stop them. The attackers must be made to think that they were facing a good defense. That meant putting troops in danger, but it was a necessary risk.

The soldiers had established a makeshift fortress around the control facility. Draheim wasn't sure if it had been intentional or not, but the facility was well designed for defense. A chasm separated the control facility from the outside hallways. This chasm was full of ventilation fans to vent any toxic fumes from the power generator below. It also made reaching the facility very difficult. A single bridge spanned the chasm, giving the defending soldiers a perfect choke point to strike from. Sandbag bunkers on either side of the bridge would allow them to rain fire upon the attackers. When the attackers finally did get across the bridge, they would find themselves within range of the NEMP rifles.

The preparations had already been made, and there was nothing more to do but wait. Draheim huddled with his troops behind the sandbag bunkers, feeling as ready as they would ever be for the inevitable firefight to come.

Contact was made several minutes later.

"Movement!"

At once the troops rose, dozens of assault rifles, sub-machine guns and shotguns raising and aiming across the bridge. They fired as one.

The attackers couldn't possibly be human. They moved with such speed and agility, seemingly dodging bullets as they ran. Draheim had been well briefed on the hazard suits and knew that the suits mechanically augmented your strength and abilities. He hadn't expected _this_, though. His men were having a hard time hitting the attackers, and when they did, the bullets ricocheted off harmlessly. Draheim felt his confidence buckle. The NEMP rifles only worked if they could hit their targets!

The attackers fired back as they raced across the bridge, taking down several of the defenders and causing the rest to duck a bit more under cover. One of the attackers tossed a grenade into a sandbag bunker, raining blood and sand throughout the encampment.

Draheim scowled at the attackers. They weren't supposed to be this good. However, in a few seconds they would be within range of the NEMP. It would all be over then.

As suddenly as the attackers had appeared at the bridge, they now disappeared. They leaped over the side of the bridge, falling several stories down through the ventilation chasm. The fall would have severely injured an ordinary human, but with their hazard suits, Draheim realized they probably didn't feel any pain from the impact.

"Move in!" Draheim shouted at his troops. They raced to the bridge where the attackers had disappeared, crouching and leaning their weapons over the side to fire down below. Draheim risked a glance over the side and verified that they were gone. They had gotten through!

Draheim quickly assessed the situation. The attackers could access the power generator from down below, reactivating power across the train line. That would be an acceptable loss if he could catch the attackers as they came back up. A single elevator connected the multiple levels of the control facility. Not even their hazard suits would help the attackers leap up several stories. The attackers might have bent the laws of physics going down, but they would have to play by those rules to get back up.

"All squads, move to the elevator. I want a defensive front established on the double! You four, get down that chasm and flush them up!"

The troops scurried to form a line of defense around the elevator shaft. The NEMP rifles were brought to the front and readied to fire at the attackers when they emerged from down below. Several soldiers rappelled down through the ventilation chasm to force the attackers up through the elevator.

For several minutes they waited, hearing the tell-tale sound of generators firing up and restoring power across the tracks. Draheim had failed to stop them from doing so, but none of that would matter if he could stop them before they escaped. Just when it seemed that things were becoming too quiet, the distinctive sound of gunfire rang out below. Before long, the elevator began to rise.

"Recon team, report in!" Draheim called over the radio. There was no response.

A tell-tale groaning noise announced the approaching elevator. The soldiers shuffled a bit as they readied themselves to fire. The elevator was only a few meters away now.

"Take cover!"

The men in front barely had time to raise their arms up in a futile gesture of self defense upon seeing the explosive charges strapped to the dead soldiers' chests. The bloody explosion took out several dozen soldiers in an instant, injuring many more. Draheim was thrown across the room; the impact knocking the wind out of him. He crawled to his feet and began barking orders as soon as he was able to regain his breath.

Draheim took what was left of his command and piled onto the elevator, riding it down with NEMP rifles at the ready. It was time to regain control of the situation. The elevator reached the bottom of the shaft without incident, and the men poured off to secure the area. They moved in teams, scouring the area in search of the attackers. The teams quickly reported in.

"Sector secure sir, no sign of hostiles!"

"They couldn't have just disappeared, damn it!" Draheim fumed.

A sudden realization hit Draheim like a wall of bricks. He had left a crucial avenue unprotected. He raced towards the ventilation chasm and looked up, just in time to catch a glimpse of the attackers crawling up onto the bridge before tossing the rappel lines back down the chasm. His prey had escaped, and he had given them the means to do so.

"Follow me!" Draheim ordered angrily as the survivors re-boarded the elevator.

These scientists were making a mockery out of his command. How could he let them slip through his fingers twice? He would need to move quickly to catch up with them in time to stop them from escaping through the train line.

The troops raced towards the transit hub. Wherever the scientists were headed, they would have to pass through there. They would set up one final defensive front to stop the scientists. They were done trying to disable the hazard suits. They would use grenades and blow the scientists to hell. Not even their hazard suits could sustain the continuous shrapnel barrage from a grenade attack. Their plans hit a snag upon reaching the transit hub.

The soldiers gasped upon seeing the towering behemoth standing in the transit hub. The two-story monster directly blocked their path. It never occurred to them that it might be asleep.

"Open fire!" Draheim ordered.

It took several seconds for the order to register with the stunned soldiers, but they soon came to their senses and unloaded their bullets and grenades upon the monster.

The single red eye opened almost instantly, and the beast rose to its full height. The monster roared in fury, pointing its bazooka-like arms at the mass of soldiers to unleash its anger. Powerful jets of flame erupted forth, engulfing the soldiers in a raging inferno. Their screams echoed through the surrounding tunnels. The surviving soldiers raced around the hub, desperately firing up at the beast. Draheim knew his men were beaten, but he still continued fighting the monster. He was too busy trying to find the monster's weakness to notice the three figures sneaking away along the side of the hub.

Draheim rolled left and right, dodging the monster's flames. Several of his men flanked the beast, but did little more than distract the monster momentarily. The beast spun about, firing its flamethrowers wildly at the circling soldiers. They did a fine job of occupying the monster, but nothing more. It was clear that they lacked the firepower to destroy this beast. It was time to consider a hasty retreat while they were still able to escape.

Even the gargantuan monster couldn't keep Draheim from noticing the train passing through the hub behind them. Draheim's rage seethed over. The monster was instantly forgotten, as was any hope of escape. Draheim turned towards the train and charged, screaming as he fired his Beretta pistol. Draheim didn't care that his bullets bounced harmlessly off of the hazard suits' armor. He didn't care about the beast approaching him from behind. There was no way he would let his prey escape without a fight while his troops fought to clear the way for them. He would not allow his soldiers to become unwilling martyrs to help his prey's cause.

The Colonel's pistol fell silent as his clip emptied against their armor. He screamed in rage as he realized the futility of his situation. He was powerless to stop the train as it continued on its track across the turntable and out of Sector E.

Draheim threw his weapon away in disgust, watching as the train disappeared down the track. He turned around and saw that the gargantuan beast had been standing there, watching him. The hub was silent now; his few remaining soldiers dead. Draheim stared up at his impending doom.

With every remaining bit of strength he had left, Draheim cursed at the beast. The monster roared back as it fired its flamethrowers one last time.

The scientists had impressed the man in the suit. He hadn't expected them to have such combat awareness. Their use of the ventilation chasm had been a stroke of genius. They had made a very good Colonel look like a complete amateur. The soldiers' deaths had been inevitable, however. The Army was still underestimating the hazard suits, even after their embarrassment on the surface. Perhaps this engagement would prove to be a wake-up call for the soldiers waiting farther down the train line.

The man's phone interrupted his train of thought. He listened as a strange bit of news was relayed to him. Someone had activated a teleporter and traveled to Xen. However, the teleportation had not been from the Lambda Complex. It had come from Sector D, in the old teleportation laboratories. The man in the suit could hardly believe the news. Just when it seemed they were impossibly behind on their timeline, their luck was finally coming around. The scientists had somehow reactivated the teleporter in Sector D. The man quickly analyzed this new piece of data. With the teleporter in Sector D he wouldn't have to wait for the soldiers to penetrate the Lambda Complex. The teleporter in Sector D was much too small to accomplish all of their mission objectives, but it would allow them to make significant progress along their timeline. The Lambda Complex could wait. This teleporter in Sector D would do for now.

**Xen**

Somewhere in the recesses of the Nihilanth's tremendous cerebrum, a strange fact registered itself. A new visitor had arrived from the target dimension.

Another part of the Nihilanth's mind analyzed the situation. From what it could discern, the visitor was alone and did not carry enough firepower to be a threat. On a whim, a team of controllers was dispatched to investigate the visitor. Unknown variables had a tendency to become exponentially dangerous if left unchecked.

The Nihilanth wasted no further brain power on the situation. It needed to prepare the next wave of its invasion. It was time to break the back of the resistance.

The team of controllers hovered low over the floating islands of Xen, training in on the location of the disturbance.

The Controllers were a unique race within the Nihilanth's army. Unlike the Vortigaunts and Grunts that made up the infantry, the Controllers were able to think freely, formulating strategies and giving orders on the fly. Their connection to the Nihilanth was not one of subjugation but of supervision. The Controllers had been created in the Nihilanth's likeness; able to fly and teleport at will. They had been trained to harness the power of their minds to create devastating energy blasts. They were quick and lethal soldiers; lieutenants on the Nihilanth's battlefields. Naturally, the Nihilanth maintained the ability to reward or give pain, but it seldom used this capability on its favorite servants. Its Controllers rarely failed to fulfill their duties.

Barney Calhoun emerged from the orb of green electricity and fell several feet to the ground. He crawled to his feet, trying to acclimate himself to the strange new world around him. Calhoun beheld fantastic colors and shapes, all of which seemed completely foreign. Shades of blue, green, and purple flooded his vision.

Calhoun recalled the briefing given by Dr. Rosenberg. Xen was a gaseous planet, consisting of little more than layers upon layers of atmosphere. Like Earth, its atmosphere was primarily oxygen. However, with little or no solid surface mass, there was very little gravity. The few bits of solid surface on Xen hovered in the atmosphere. These flying islands consisted of a strange gravity-defying rock that baffled the scientists on Earth.

Calhoun had emerged from the teleporter on the same flying island that the original explorers of Xen had first discovered. He took a few cautious steps, losing his balance trying to adjust to the lower gravity. Fortunately, he wouldn't need to walk far. His target was only a few hundred meters away.

The former base camp was a disaster area. The tents had been torn to shreds and broken equipment littered the area. Bloody hazard suits had been thrown about haphazardly. Calhoun had thought hazard suits were invulnerable to such violence. Something here had clearly found a way to penetrate that illusion of protection. Calhoun suddenly felt naked with little more than his bulletproof vest to protect him from aliens powerful enough to destroy hazard suits.

Calhoun didn't linger at the camp any longer than he had to. He found the command tent and the beacon key card within. He had been briefed on how to activate the beacon, and knew this key card would start the process. With key in hand, Calhoun trekked back across the island towards the relay beacon.

The beacon had been constructed on top of a tremendous yellow crystal. Calhoun noticed, with great relief, that the device had not been destroyed. The aliens had somehow disabled it without damaging the device. Calhoun put the key in its slot to activate the device. Nothing happened. Calhoun inspected the controls of the device, looking for some clue as to what was wrong. The dials were all set normally. Other than the lack of power, the device should be running perfectly fine.

Calhoun kicked the dirt in frustration, a cloud of dust hovering in mid-air. Calhoun cursed his luck. He had traveled across space and time to reactivate a machine that needed new batteries.

A sudden thought struck Calhoun. He remembered many years earlier his parents had hired a repairman to come fix a similar problem with their television. They had been charged full price for the repairman to reach around behind the television and plug it back into the wall.

Calhoun walked around behind the beacon and followed its power cables through the dirt. He kicked the dirt aside to inspect the cables as he went. There! A portion of the cable had been sheared away, the insulation burned to reveal a break in the connection. Calhoun pulled the two ends together, careful not to touch any of the exposed wire. The machine immediately began humming with activity, causing the crystal to glow with activity. Whatever he had been sent here to do, Calhoun had just accomplished it. It was time to leave this place before the locals discovered him.

Calhoun returned to the teleportation portal, his unease increasing by the second. Something dangerous lived here, but he had seen no sign of life whatsoever. That changed as he rounded the final bend towards the portal.

A group of creatures flew over the horizon, rocketing towards Calhoun. They approached in formation, like a flock of deadly birds. They looked almost human, aside from their oversized brain cavities. They hovered now, circling Calhoun, bobbing up and down hypnotically. Calhoun felt something inside his mind; some instinct telling him to stand perfectly still. A soothing in his head told him to stop. _You will die if you step into that portal. Stand still and everything will be all right…_ As the voice continued its soothing mantra, Calhoun noticed the hands of the flying creatures. They were dancing in the air, glowing brighter and brighter as they did so. They seemed to be building up strength to do something. _Stand still, human, and everything will be all right…_

Calhoun had never been one to listen to his conscience. He leaped into the portal and disappeared. The ground where he had been standing a moment before exploded in a shower of sparks and flames as the controllers unleashed their psychic attack a moment too late. Instead of destroying their prey, their attack merely amplified the explosive power of the live grenade Calhoun had left in his wake. The resulting explosion destroyed the circle of controllers.

**Sector D – Classified Teleportation Laboratory **

Calhoun expected a warm welcome upon his return to Earth. He would receive no fanfare, however. He arrived in the middle of a storm of panic and hurried activity. All around him, scientists hurried to pack equipment and personal belongings. They were clearly in a hurry to get out of here.

Calhoun spotted Rosenberg through the chaos and raced over to get his attention. "Hey Doc, what's going on? Why the hurry?"

"Thank God you made it, Barney! The moment you activated the beacon we began preparing to leave. The military is pounding on our doorstep, and we need to get out of here as quickly as possible!"

Calhoun looked behind him and saw that the scientists had reactivated the portal and were already leaving through it. Rosenberg grabbed his arm and pulled him back towards the portal.

"Make way!" Rosenberg called as they ran.

Calhoun stopped at the edge of the portal, looking back at the scientists around him. "Shouldn't I stay behind and cover your escape?"

"You've fought enough, Barney. You would do nothing more than slow down the inevitable. No amount of foolish heroics would stop those soldiers. We can only hope to have enough time left to get all of the scientists through the portal. You can stay and fight if you wish, but I'm going on. The choice is yours!"

Rosenberg disappeared into the portal.

Somewhere deep within Calhoun, a brief battle was fought. He could see himself staying behind, fighting to the death to let a few scientists get through the portal before him. That was the voice of the soldier within him that he would never become. A stronger voice took control. He had already risked his life to give them all a chance to escape. These scientists had been too cowardly to go to Xen themselves. He had helped them enough and he would not die so close to escape.

Calhoun stepped into the portal and left Black Mesa.

**Sector E – Freight Train Lines**

The soldiers felt ready to take on the scientists. At every corner, dozens of soldiers lay in waiting, ready to pump ammunition into the targets that had killed so many of their friends. Word of what had happened further down the train line had spread like wildfire. A theoretical physicist had somehow wiped out an entire enclave of soldiers.

The troops had rigged the entire train line with sandbag bunkers, machine gun turrets, and rocket launchers. Nothing was going to get by them without a fight. And fight they would.

The battles through the train lines were short and furious. The soldiers put up an admirable fight, but they were ill-equipped to take on the hazard suits. The scientists were too fast and too smart to be caught off guard by the ambushes waiting for them. At each confrontation, the soldiers unleashed an amazing display of force, only to be defeated by the superior maneuverability and adaptability of their adversaries. The soldiers were knocked back on their heels each time. The radio waves were filled with horrified chatter of troops calling for backup that would not come. The troops had been trained to know they were superior to any fighting force they would ever face on the field of battle. The realization to the contrary came as an abrupt and deadly shock.

The man in the gray suit observed their progress from the safety of the shadows. He continued to be impressed by the tenacious trio. Keeping up with them was proving to be a challenge, but once his men accomplished their goal on Xen, traveling around Black Mesa would become much easier.

As if on cue, the man's phone brought outstanding news from Xen. The mysterious traveler had done their job for them. The beacon had been reactivated, and intra-planetary teleportation was once again a reality. It was more important than ever before to get to Xen as quickly as possible. They needed to secure the relay beacon and ensure its continued operation. It was time to begin the next phase of their operation.

The man in the suit made a quick call. "Commander Dekker, Phase Two has begun a bit early. Your first objective has already been completed. Start bringing your troops, but avoid the military until they've begun pulling out. Our hand must be invisible."

A simple, curt, "Yes, sir" was the only response before the line was cut. Dekker was a man of few words, and a man of great action. His men would have much more success than Thompson's bunch of amateurs.

The man in the suit pressed a button on his suitcase. A portal opened in front of him. With the beacon restored, he could travel freely around the Black Mesa complex. He stepped into the portal and emerged inside the old teleportation laboratory in time to watch the last scientists try to escape before the military crashed their party.

**Perimeter Maintenance Garage**

Rosenberg and Calhoun emerged from the chaos of the teleportation lab to find a similar situation on the surface. The portal had sent them to the outer maintenance garage, a mile beyond the facility's main gates. The odds of running into the Army this far out were slim to none. They were home free.

Calhoun stepped out of the garage and looked at the large mesa that gave the Black Mesa Research Facility its name. He would not miss this place at all. This damned place had almost become his tomb. It had caused so much suffering and death. For all he cared, it could go up in flames.

A familiar noise made Calhoun turn with a start. Helicopters! Was the Army bringing in reinforcements? The approaching Ospreys were painted jet black, with no markings of any kind. Calhoun's first thought was that these might be some kind of black ops troops, but there was already a small army in Black Mesa. Why would they bring in another one?

A radio inside the garage attracted Calhoun's attention. Voices could be heard, speaking in the distinctive matter-of-fact manner used by the military. He listened in to see if he could find out anything about their new arrivals.

"Negative, Sniper Four! The AWACS hasn't picked up anything. If there was anything inbound, we would know. Keep your rifle pointed towards the facility where the real--"

"Sir, this is Captain Plashke in Sector E. We have apprehended Freeman and his companions. Requesting instructions, over."

"Take them topside for questioning, Captain. Make sure they stay disabled. We won't make the same mistakes twice, over."

"Copy that, sir. We're on our way up, over."

Calhoun pounded the table in frustration. He doubted they would make it to the surface alive. The soldiers hadn't thought twice about murdering Walter. What would stop them from killing the three scientists responsible for this disaster?

Logic told Calhoun to get as far away from this place as he could and to never look back. Calhoun knew he didn't stand a chance against those soldiers. Something deep inside that he rarely felt intervened, however. He wouldn't risk anything more for these cowardly scientists around him, but he had befriended Gordon, Gina, and Colette. They had fought together and nearly died together. They had helped him escape from Sector C, and he had abandoned them to save his own neck. If he let those three die, he knew he wouldn't be able to live with himself. He was being given an opportunity to correct his mistake. Calhoun knew in that moment that he wouldn't be leaving Black Mesa without trying to save them.

Calhoun walked out of the garage without a word. He took an SUV and drove back towards the ominous mesa that might yet become his tomb.


	7. Apprehension

**Black Mesa**

**By Patrick Williams**

Based on the storyline from Half-Life, a game from Valve Software and Sierra Studios. The Half-Life franchise is the property of Sierra Studios. All rights are reserved to Sierra Studios.

**Chapter 7 – Apprehension**

**Sector E – Surface Access**

Gordon was being slowly dragged down a narrow hallway. His suit was disabled, and he was completely immobilized. He couldn't even turn his head to see where he was or where he was being taken. His hazard suit that had made him so powerful before was nothing more than a heavy coffin now. He felt like someone who had been buried alive.

How could they have been so careless? The three scientists had battled their way through the train lines, seemingly invincible as they blew through the military's lines of defense. The soldiers' lines had broken like waves against a cliff face as they were driven back by the three well-armed scientists. During a heated battle, the scientists had spotted a surface access sign. That sign meant they were very close to reaching their goal: the Lambda Complex. The three scientists had foolishly rushed through a doorway that had been booby trapped. They had made it so far only to be stopped by a simple tripwire attached to an EMP bomb.

"Gina, Colette, can you hear me?" Gordon called, using his communicator. He remembered that the communicators had been unaffected by the EMP rifles the last time they were disabled. However, Gordon received no response this time. Either the other two were out of range or unable to respond. Gordon couldn't decide which possibility was worse.

Two soldiers were dragging Gordon, one on each arm. Even with their combined strength, they still struggled to pull Gordon. It gave Gordon a tiny bit of pleasure to see them struggle as they gradually made their way to wherever they were going.

"So, who is this guy anyway?" one of the soldiers grunted.

"Freeman. They say he was at Ground Zero," the other replied.

"Science team? You think he was responsible? Sabotage, maybe?"

"Yeah, maybe. All I know for sure is that he's been killing my buddies."

"So where are we taking him?"

"Topside for questioning."

"What the hell for? We've got the guy responsible for this mess. Let's kill him now. They can question the other two all they want. They won't mind if we lose one."

"And if they find the body?"

"What body?"

The two soldiers shared a laugh that sent shivers up Gordon's spine.

**Black Mesa Surface**

Barney Calhoun's SUV raced down the dirt road towards the outer edges of the Black Mesa Research Facility. He wasn't sure how he would get into the facility past the military, but he would have to find a way. If he had to fight every soldier in this facility he would find a way. The lives of Gordon, Gina, and Colette might depend on it.

The road wound through several canyons and caves as it brought him ever closer to that tremendous mesa which gave Black Mesa its name. As the SUV rounded one final bend, the entrance to the research facility came into view. A large metal fence surrounded the facility, reminiscent of the fences that surrounded the Nazi concentration camps. Calhoun shook his head, wondering why he had made that connection. Like Auschwitz's fences, Black Mesa's fences were electrified; fatal to the touch. Fortunately, the main gate had been smashed to the ground. Calhoun cautiously drove through, expecting to be shot at any moment.

Calhoun decided the SUV would attract more attention than it was worth. He ditched it at the side of the dirt road and continued on foot, keeping to the shadows. The dirt road was dotted with security towers that had once held Black Mesa Security personnel. Those same towers might hold snipers looking for intruders like Calhoun.

After passing several of these towers, Calhoun spotted a Humvee stopped at the side of the road. A soldier lay stretched out on the ground in a small pool of blood. The cause of death wasn't immediately clear. The body wasn't slashed to pieces from a zombie attack or burned to a crisp from a Vortigaunt attack. If it had been attacked by a head-crab, the body would have joined the ranks of the enemy. Instead, the soldier was riddled with tiny holes, as if he had been shot up with a pellet gun. No pellet gun Calhoun had ever seen could penetrate a body like this, though. The holes went clean through the body, as if it had been impaled by needles. Calhoun shuddered at that thought.

A startling noise caused Calhoun to snap to attention. A helicopter was approaching fast. Calhoun worked quickly, borrowing the soldier's urban camouflage BDU. The BDU fit snugly against his body armor, which he was determined not to part with. Calhoun was putting on the soldier's boots as the helicopter came into view. He instantly recognized it as an Apache.

It slowed visibly, coming to a halt and hovering as it turned to face Calhoun. Calhoun waved his arm in the air and gave a thumbs-up signal. Calhoun hoped to hell he came across a soldier. If he screwed this up, there would be a few more holes in his newly acquired uniform.

The Apache idled in mid-air, the pilot seeming to think about what he was seeing. Calhoun waved his arms again, silently shouting at the Apache to get the hell out of here. The Apache tipped its nose as if to leave, and Calhoun breathed a huge sigh of relief. Then the belly-mounted cannon opened fire.

Calhoun hit the dirt, rolling for cover behind the Humvee. It took Calhoun several seconds to realize that the Apache's cannon wasn't firing at him after all. Calhoun whirled about and saw what it was shooting at.

Approaching from behind were several bulky aliens. They were at least six feet tall, and nearly that wide. They reminded Calhoun of football players in their build and the way they lumbered down the dirt road towards him. Their powerful figures were covered with a heavy exoskeleton and further protected by heavy metallic armor. Metal helmets protected their already thick skulls. Each of the creatures he had encountered was disturbing in its own way, but none more so than these powerful beasts lumbering towards him now.

The Grunts unleashed their attack. When they fired, Calhoun instantly knew what had happened to the dead soldier in the Humvee. From appendages that could only be described as weapons, a flood of tiny hornets erupted forth. These hornets spiraled through the air, clearly veering towards Calhoun. Calhoun ducked behind the Humvee only to find the hornets adjusting their trajectories to veer around the Humvee as well. They were self-guided! Calhoun dove out of the way as they impacted the ground where he had been hiding a moment earlier. A few of the hornets stuck themselves in his armor, painfully digging against his skin before coming to rest. Calhoun doubted his armor would withstand a continued barrage from these hornets. More hornets whistled by overhead searching for targets. Calhoun was clearly pinned down.

The Apache continued to fire at the charging Grunts. Their thick armor was disturbingly effective. It absorbed the impact of the 30mm shots from the belly-mounted cannon as if they were spit wads. However, not even the grunts' armor would protect them from the Apache's mounted Hellfire missiles. The Hellfire missiles were designed to destroy tanks and other armored vehicles. They would make short work of these grunts, no matter how thick their armor was. The Apache circled around behind the grunts, trying to get a good shot for the Hellfires.

The grunts stopped firing at Calhoun momentarily and whirled around to fire up at the Apache. The grunts' hornets whistled up towards the helicopter's cockpit. The hornets made short work of the glass that protected the pilot and gunner, both of whom screamed as their bodies were riddled with the tiny relentless projectiles. The pilot's dead body jerked reflexively, sending the Apache into a fatal spin towards a sniper tower. It exploded impressively, and the grunts were visibly pleased with themselves. They hardly noticed the small green object that hit the ground near their feet.

Calhoun's grenade exploded, taking the alien grunts with it.

Calhoun got to his feet and cleaned himself up. He would need this BDU to get past the military checkpoints farther down the road, but he would need more than a uniform and a charming smile to do so. He looked at the remains of the alien grunts and had an idea.

He lugged a heavy corpse through the dirt towards the Humvee. With great effort, he deposited the body in the back seat. He found the keys in the ignition and drove the vehicle through the Black Mesa complex in search of the three missing scientists.

**Black Mesa Central Command**

Major General Thompson was back at HQ now, and upon arrival had claimed the seat formerly occupied by Dr. Breen as his own. Breen's desk really was quite useful for monitoring the operation, and the chair most comfortable.

Thompson had received the news about the three rogue scientists while en route and he had been all smiles since. Finally, things were starting to go right. The hazard suits were in custody, and it was only a matter of time before he could use them to get into the Lambda Complex. Many good soldiers had died in Sector E to secure those hazard suits, and Thompson was determined not to let their lives be wasted in vain.

The radio brought news from the field.

"Captain Plashke here, sir. We've brought two of the scientists to the surface, and our specialists are working on removing the hazard suits in the motorpool garage. We'll report on their status when we have more news, sir. Over."

"Wait just one second, Captain. What the hell happened to the third scientist?"

There was a pause on the other end before the tentative reply came, "We've… lost contact with the soldiers bringing Freeman to the surface. We're not sure what they're up to, sir. Their last report came from near the bio lab, sir. Over."

Thompson smirked. He knew exactly what they were up to. Attached to the biological research lab was a rather large waste reclamation plant. If the troops were indeed heading for the bio lab with Freeman, there was little doubt what they intended to do with him. The troops wanted a bit of revenge against the man responsible for this mess. It was understandable. The soldiers had two hazard suits in custody, which would be more than enough. Let the troops have their way with the third.

"They're most likely having some fun with the trash compactors, Captain. It's of no concern to us now that we have the others. Any other news?"

"Sir, we have troubling reports of strange sightings in the skies, over."

"More black helicopters, Captain?"

"No, sir. Nothing like that at all. Our snipers are spotting something… new in the skies. It's definitely not ours, and it's definitely not human, sir. Over."

"Very well, Captain. We'll look into it. Proceed."

"Yes, sir. We have other reports of new types of aliens surfacing around the facility. These new aliens are stronger, and our troops are having problems with them. We lost a lot of men getting those hazard suits, and these new aliens are overwhelming us. I recommend that we call in reinforcements, sir."

Thompson conceded the point. He had wasted too many men getting those hazard suits. The captain was right. They needed more.

"Thank you, Captain. I'll take it under advisement. Over and out."

Thompson leaned forward in Breen's chair, head resting on his arched fingers as he planned his next moves. The AWACS hadn't detected these new alien fliers. If they existed, they were invisible to their radar. Their air supremacy might be in jeopardy.

"They're talking about Mantas, I presume?" Dr. Breen asked from his less comfortable seat across the room. He was slightly irritated that Thompson insisted at sitting behind _his _desk in _his_ chair. The armed guard at Breen's side assured he would not object too strongly, though.

"That's the conclusion I drew too. Their arrival, along with that of the Mantas, threatens our superiority on the ground and in the air." Thompson turned to an aide, "Do we still have those F-35s on standby?"

"Yes, sir. The joint strike fighters are ready to go on a moment's notice."

"Good. Get them in the air ASAP. Also, contact Santego. Tell them to bring in our reinforcements."

**Black Mesa Surface**

Calhoun overheard the conversation through the Humvee's command frequency radio. The talk of new aliens was nothing new to him. He had battled them first hand. The talk of the alien fliers was disturbing, but not nearly as much as the talk about Gordon. From what he could discern, Gina and Colette were in custody but otherwise safe for now. Freeman was not so lucky it seemed. A few soldiers had gone rogue, thinking they knew better what to do with Freeman.

The soldiers had mentioned the trash compactors behind the bio labs. If they were putting Freeman in there, he was in deep trouble. His hazard suit couldn't protect him from pistons powerful enough to crush a car into a tiny cube. Calhoun pushed the petal to the ground as he raced the Humvee through the complex towards the bio labs.

He was stopped at a roadblock near his goal. Three soldiers stood behind a concrete divider that blocked the only road leading to the bio lab. A tank idled in the background to emphasize their point. Calhoun desperately hoped his BDU disguise would get him through.

"Where are you heading in such a hurry, trooper?" a gruff soldier asked.

"I have orders to get this thing," Calhoun gestured to the dead alien grunt in the back seat, "to the bio labs for inspection. This thing is rotting fast. I need to get a move on guys."

"Move along, then, soldier. Get that smelly piece of shit out of here!" the soldier laughed as he stepped back and gestured for the road block to be removed. Calhoun drove on with a nod to the soldiers.

Calhoun reached the bio lab entrance without fanfare. The entrance was circled by automatic turrets to ease the load on the troops. Fortunately for Calhoun, they were programmed to ignore the camouflage pattern of the Humvee and BDU. Calhoun parked the Humvee in front of the bio lab. The Humvee would do him little good from here on out, unless he planned on driving it through the bio lab's glass entrance. He hoped to be slightly more incognito than that. Calhoun nervously realized how much time had passed since he had heard the news of Freeman's disappearance.

Calhoun pulled the grunt's carcass out of the back seat and placed it on one of the Humvee's stretchers with great effort. The stretcher buckled under the weight of the body, but it held. Calhoun wheeled the stretcher through the bio lab's glass doors and into the lobby. He was confronted by two soldiers manning the entrance.

"Where are you taking this… thing?" one of the soldiers asked.

"I have orders to dispose of this body in the trash compactors," Calhoun replied, trying to remain calm.

"I wasn't notified. I'll have to clear it."

"No time!" Calhoun exclaimed. "Intelligence thinks this body is infected and contagious. I have to get rid of it immediately!"

At the words 'infected' and 'contagious' the two soldiers backed away quickly. "Very well! The compactor is down that hallway, out the rear entrance. Move along, trooper!"

Calhoun quickly pushed the stretcher through the lab, getting some quizzical looks from other soldiers patrolling the hallway. Getting through their lines was proving easier than he had expected. He doubted getting out with Gordon would be quite as easy. That all depended on him getting to Gordon on time, he reminded himself.

Calhoun emerged at the rear of the bio lab and spotted the trash compactors. He saw two soldiers dragging Gordon's body up the stairs to the largest compactor. They unceremoniously dumped his lifeless body into the compactor and Calhoun knew instantly that he was already too late.

**Santego Military Base**

The base hadn't been expecting the call for reinforcements so soon. It caught the personnel at a loss, and they scurried about trying to get ready to go. If they were already calling for reinforcements, things at Black Mesa were worse than expected.

The soldiers were trained to be on the move at a moment's notice, however. After a short delay, the remaining V-22 Ospreys were fully loaded and inbound to Black Mesa.

The AWACS above Black Mesa detected their liftoff and assigned landing zones by the numbers.

"Okay, Goose Seven. Proceed to sector 112-LZ and rendezvous with Alpha Bravo Tango. Over."

"Copy that, Mother Goose."

Corporal Adrian Shephard gazed out of his Osprey at the desert scenery flying past beneath them. Shephard was still young at 22, but he was, like the men around him, a well trained killing machine. His squad was trained for Special Forces operations, and had been expecting to be deployed within the next few days for what had been called a cleanup operation. They knew nothing of their mission other than approximately when it would happen. They hadn't expected to be deployed for several days, and it had almost caught them off guard. Shephard wondered if this was some bizarre form of combat-readiness test. Their sergeant certainly hadn't helped to dispel any of the rumors flying about the helicopter, as his orders were to brief them only after they landed.

One of Shephard's team members, nicknamed Tower, grumbled in his corner of the Osprey, "Where the hell are we going anyway?"

Another team member, Jackson, replied smartly, "Well the pilot thought we were headin' to your mother's house. So far this all looks familiar."

"Real cute, Jackson."

"Anytime, anywhere!"

Their exchange was that of two hardened soldiers trying to lighten the mood before an engagement. Tower and Jackson were close friends, each willing to die to protect the other, though they might never admit it to anyone. Tower was a heavy weapons specialist. His favorite toy, an M-249 SAW, was held at his side, ready for anything after they landed. Jackson was the team's engineer, trained to fix and operate any machinery they encountered, as well as to crack locks and breach doors with his blowtorch. Jackson was a valuable member of the team, but a real jackass when it came down to it. He was also a chain smoker, and had an annoying habit of lighting his cigarettes with his blowtorch.

Tower sniffed the air dramatically as he spoke again, "Hey man, you smell that?"

Jackson sniffed his armpits defensively, "Smell what?"

Tower explained, "Smells like another babysittin' job to me, man!"

Jackson laughed, relieved, "No shit, man!"

Chavez, another team member, shared his opinion, "Babysitting job my ass! This job has training mission written all over it. Why else would they have kept our orders from us for so long, eh?"

Tower replied, "Yeah, what the hell is that all about? Throwin' our asses in this hunk of junk and not even tellin' us what we're goin' in for, man."

The sergeant, who had been standing at the edge of the Osprey looking out at the passing scenery, turned around to face Tower. "Do you have a problem, Private?" he barked in his best drill sergeant tone, "I will give you your orders when we have reached the LZ. Do you get me, soldier?!"

"Sir, yes sir!" a sobered Tower replied.

Jackson took over, "Well I don't really give a damn what we're going in for. Long as I get to kill me something!"

Chavez agreed, "I hear that, mano."

The team's medic, Jones, remained quiet in his corner of the helicopter. He wasn't much of a talker, but was an excellent doctor. The team was glad to have him aboard, even if he was a black hole for conversation.

Shephard shook his head, looking back to the world they flew over. They had entered a canyon now, and they were running out of flying room.

Their pilot noticed this fact also, "Watch your vector, Goose Three. It's getting a little tight in here."

"Roger that, Goose Seven. We copy."

Tower resumed his moaning, "Man, if this is another Search and Rescue operation I'm gonna be pissed."

Jackson smirked, "Yeah, I'm gonna be pissed too when I gotta search and rescue _your_ sorry ass."

Tower glared icicles across the helicopter, bringing his M-249 into his lap as he did so. Jackson laughed at the gesture of force.

Their pilot was on the radio again, "Anyone out there got a good view of the LZ?"

"Negative Goose Seven. I can see some activity up ahead, but I can't tell what's going on."

Tower stopped glaring at Jackson for a moment, turning to Shephard, "Hey Shephard! I think Jackson has the hots for you."

Jackson fumed, "Screw you, Tower!"

Shephard laughed, "I don't think I have anything to worry about. You two are the ones acting like you're married."

Tower made a kissy face to Jackson, and the team, aside from the sergeant, shared a good laugh. It helped ease the tension caused by not knowing where they were going or why. The sergeant, however, knew too much to be in a jovial mood.

**Black Mesa Surface**

Calhoun stared at the trash compactor dejectedly. Gordon hadn't been able to fight back as the soldiers dumped his body into the compactor. He must have been dead already. Calhoun was too late. He had failed Gordon, but he would not let these bastards dispose of his body like garbage to be left at the curb. Gordon would get a proper burial.

Calhoun approached the two soldiers. He cleared his throat and impersonated a drill sergeant, speaking to them from the bottom of the staircase leading up to the compactor. "Just what in the hell do you two maggots think you're doing?"

"Just disposing of a body, sir," one of the soldiers explained as the other activated the compactor, starting the slow process of crushing everything thrown into it. The compactor groaned painfully as its motors churned to life.

"The General is looking high and low for you two. He sent me down from HQ to tell you two to check in immediately. Get on the horn on the double!" Calhoun planned to shoot the two soldiers in the back as they passed him at the bottom of the stairs. It was the best plan Calhoun could come up with on such short notice.

"Yes, sir!" the soldiers barked as they began to come down the stairs. The one in front paused halfway down, a confused look on his face. "Sir, why did the General send you? He could have sent one of the men from the bio lab for us."

Calhoun froze, trying to think up a way to get of this, "I... er, the General doesn't have to explain himself to you! Now get in there and check in!"

"No, _sir_. Who exactly are you? None of the General's staff would go out without an escort." the soldier brought his shotgun up to face Calhoun. His comrade behind him brought his MP5 up as well.

Calhoun gulped. The gig was up. He realized there was nowhere for him to run. He would have to give himself up.

The soldier in front grinned triumphantly, "I don't know who you are, but you're not one of ours. You're probably some new form of alien we haven't seen yet. You're going to join our friend in the trash compactor."

The soldier gestured up the stairs with his shotgun and Calhoun saw his opportunity. He drew his .357 Magnum in a flash and fired twice, both shots hitting their mark square in the soldier's chest. Calhoun dove beneath the staircase as the second soldier fired his MP5 where Calhoun had been standing. The soldier fired wildly around the stairs, not sure where Calhoun would come from next. Calhoun could see the soldier's feet through the gaps in the stairs, reached through, and pulled hard. The soldier lost his balance, tumbling down the stairs. He rolled to the ground and found himself staring up at the barrel of Calhoun's pistol. Calhoun relieved the soldier of his gun.

"Turn the compactor off. Now!" Calhoun ordered.

The soldier scurried up the stairs to do so. The compactor stopped a scant few feet from Gordon's body. A few more seconds and there wouldn't have been a body left to bury.

"Now," Calhoun spoke, "You're going to help me bury this body properly. He was a good man, and he deserves our respect."

The soldier spoke cautiously, "Sir, this guy's not dead. We couldn't kill him. All we did was disable his suit. He's still alive in there."

Calhoun felt his temper rise and threaten to spill over. He shouted angrily, "You were putting him in there _alive_?!" Calhoun lost control and smacked the soldier across the face with the butt of his pistol. The soldier fell into the trash compactor, unconscious.

"You monster…" Calhoun muttered through gritted teeth at the bleeding soldier.

Calhoun's eye was drawn to movement in the compactor. Gordon had begun to stir. Gordon's voice rang through the speakers of his hazard suit. "Thank God you came, Barney! My suit had almost restored power, but if you hadn't been there to stop the compactor it would have all been for naught. The soldiers… they captured Gina and Colette. I don't know where they've taken them, but we have to rescue them."

"Let's not waste any time, then." Calhoun agreed.

Gordon got to his feet and found, with relief, that his suit was fully restored. He used his amplified strength to climb out of the compactor, leaving the bleeding soldier where he lay. "Let that bastard get out on his own," Gordon grunted, "Let's see how _he_ likes it in there."

"I think I know where they're holding Gina and Colette," Calhoun explained. "There's a garage near the center of the surface complex. I overheard the soldiers on the radio talking about taking them there. They're trying to get their hazard suits off as we speak."

"That would explain why I couldn't get in touch with them over the communicator. Let's get moving. Do you have a plan for getting past the soldiers?"

Calhoun grinned, "As a matter of fact, I do."

A group of helicopters flew by overhead, led by an Apache. Gordon ducked for cover, but these helicopters seemed to have more important business to attend to. As the helicopters disappeared, they spotted something far more disturbing tailing the convoy. It looked like a gigantic manta ray gliding through the air with astonishing speed. It had to be from Xen. The aliens had brought flying ships to Earth! Things had gone from bad to worse yet again.

"Listen up Geese, this is Eagle Two. My gunner spotted something coming up behind us. Keep your eyes open, over." Eagle Two was the Apache assigned to escort the flock of Ospreys during their approach to Black Mesa. It was supposed to be a milk run, and the strange craft detected behind them had caught everyone off guard.

"This is Goose Three—"

A burst of static interrupted the transmission. The sergeant onboard Goose Seven turned with a start as a bright flash of light announced the death of the men onboard Goose Three. The sergeant grabbed onto a handhold to avoid falling as the Osprey tipped sideways to avoid the debris falling from the explosion.

"This is Eagle Two; Goose Three is down! Goose Three is down!"

The men onboard Goose Seven snapped to attention, looking for a threat they were powerless to protect themselves from. Eagle Two flew past them, trying to put itself between the remaining Ospreys and the attacking craft.

The attacker was like nothing the pilot of Eagle Two had ever seen before. It had hovered above Goose Three for a moment, destroying the transport with a powerful beam of energy. Eagle Two fired several Hydra rockets at the attacker to no avail. Their radar couldn't detect the craft, and the Hydra rockets were fired blind and dumb. Most of them veered away from their target, and the few rockets that hit the craft caused little damage. Eagle Two stood its ground, trying to give the rest of Goose Flight enough time to escape. Eagle two met the same fate as Goose Three.

Goose Seven zigged and zagged as much as it dared through the narrow canyon. It was a futile gesture of self defense, and everyone onboard knew it. The attacking craft approached quickly.

"Goose Seven, hang tight. This is Angel One. We've got the target in sight, standby."

"You're a sight for sore eyes, Angel One," Goose Seven's pilot said, cautiously relieved. The F-35s were here! They still might be too late.

The Manta hovered above Goose Seven and fired its energy weapon. The pilot juked the craft to the side, saving the craft but losing an engine to the alien blast. The pilot desperately tried to regain control of the wounded helicopter.

As the Manta tried to line itself up for another shot, the F-35s attacked from the rear. A self-guided missile launched from one of their wings tore through the attacker, sending it to the ground in a smoking heap. The alien Mantas were tough, but they were still fallible. The F-35 pilots breathed a sigh of relief at this realization.

"This is Angel One; you're in the clear Goose Flight. E.T. is down."

"This is Mother Goose; thanks for the assist Angel Flight. We—"

"Mayday, mayday! This is Goose Seven; we've taken heavy damage to the starboard engine and are going down. Repeat; mayday, mayday! Goose Seven is going down!"

"Mother Goose here; Goose Seven, be advised, your vector takes you into hostile territory. Expect engagement at your LZ, over. Eagle Two, stay with Goose Flight and make sure they land safely. Angel Flight, establish a perimeter and keep a lookout for more of those fliers…"

As the AWACS took control of the situation, the pilot of Goose Seven struggled to guide the dying helicopter to the ground as safely as possible. He fought against the laws of physics to keep control of the machine that was rapidly transforming from a helicopter into a falling projectile.

Goose Seven's pilot turned around to face the soldiers in the back. "Sarge, I can't land this bird! Prep your chutes and get the hell out of here!"

The men didn't need any further prodding. They were ready in an instant, lined up to make the jump. The sergeant pushed them out, one at a time, making sure they each had a clear jumping lane but not wasting any unnecessary time. They were much too close to the ground for the parachutes to do much good. They all understood this but jumped nonetheless. They knew that a painful landing was preferable to an explosive death in the helicopter when it hit the ground. They pulled their parachute cords as soon as they were clear of the helicopter, each of them praying in their own way to survive the impact. They knew the odds were against them.

Shephard was the last of the soldiers to go before the sergeant. They shared a look of understanding as Shephard jumped. They were definitely too close to the ground now. Shephard knew his odds of survival were next to none, and the sergeant's even worse for following him. Shephard took his leap of faith.

One by one, the soldiers hit the ground, their parachutes slowing them down just enough to stop the impact from killing them. They knew to relax their bodies and let the impact spread through them, lest it focus on one part and break it. The medic, Jones, landed first, getting up badly bruised. Tower and Jackson landed in similar condition. Chavez landed with a sprained ankle from the impact.

Shephard was not as lucky as the first few. The last thing he saw before he landed was the smoking helicopter hitting the ground near their landing site. It exploded, taking the pilot with it to the grave. He hoped the sergeant had made it out safely, but had little time to worry about him. Shephard lost consciousness as he landed, the pain of the impact proving too much for his nervous system.

The sergeant hit the ground shortly after Shephard, traveling much too fast for the parachute to ease the landing. His spine shattered from the impact, killing him instantly.

Shephard's team had arrived at Black Mesa.


	8. Questionable Ethics

**Black Mesa**

**By Patrick Williams**

Based on the storyline from Half-Life, a game from Valve Software and Sierra Studios. The Half-Life franchise is the property of Sierra Studios. All rights are reserved to Sierra Studios.

**Chapter 8 – Questionable Ethics**

**Sector D – Classified Teleportation Laboratory**

The main in the gray suit had supervised the evacuation of the labs and was convinced that the scientists had not left any traps for them. The soldiers had done a thorough job of clearing the area, and it was safe to begin using the teleporter.

The man contacted Major General Thompson.

"Mister Thompson, your men did a… satisfactory job clearing the labs down here. Their work here is done. Pull them back to the surface immediately."

"But they just–- Very well," came the confused reply.

The man in the suit watched the sergeant as he held his radio to his ear as the new orders made their way down the chain of command. The sergeant, in turn, relayed them along in his standard barking tone. The soldiers began shuffling out, confused as to why they had broken into this lab only to abandon it minutes later. The sergeant was the last one out, leaving with a quizzical look towards the man in the suit, who paid it no mind.

"How goes your quest to capture the Lambda Complex, Mister Thompson?" the man asked as he returned to his radio.

"We've captured two of the hazard suits and we think we can use them to get past the Lambda Complex's defenses."

"Ah, the old Trojan horse approach; an admiral plan, Mister Thompson. But tell me, what happened to the third hazard suit?"

"The third is being disposed of as we speak. Two hazard suits will be more than enough to get in and open the gates."

"Check your H.E.V. tracking console again, Mister Thompson. These hazard suits are not as easy to dispose of as you think."

There was a pause on the other end before a reply came. Muffled shouting could be heard in the background.

"The third one's still moving, and he's most likely going to try and rescue the other two," Thompson announced, tension gripping his voice.

"You know what you have to do, Mister Thompson. Your success here depends on you capturing those hazard suits. You would do well to supervise this operation in person."

"Very well. I'll get back to you. Over and out."

Dekker and his men arrived soon after the General's soldiers abandoned the lab. They wore their standard black jumpsuits and body armor, infrared goggles propped up on their foreheads. The soldiers were well armed, with OICWs, P-90s, and M-249s held at the ready. Dekker approached the man in the suit to report in with a salute.

"My men are ready to go, sir."

"Very good, Commander. You understand the importance of your mission. Begin teleportation immediately. There is little time to waste."

"Yes, sir." Dekker pointed to one of his men and gestured to the teleporter's control panel. The man nodded and hurried to activate the teleporter for their excursion to Xen.

**Biological Research Laboratory**

Freeman lay on the stretcher previously occupied by the dead Grunt. A sheet covered him, a poor disguise to be sure, but it was the best they could come up with given the circumstances. Calhoun wheeled the stretcher back through the hallways of the lab, getting more strange looks from soldiers on duty, but otherwise not being confronted. They both hoped the ruse held up long enough to get them out of the building. All they had to do was walk down the central corridor and out the front doors. Like most things, however, doing so was much more complicated than it seemed.

Calhoun pushed the stretcher into the lobby, immediately arousing the suspicions of the two guards standing post at the glass-walled entrance. Another guard sat behind the front desk, watching the security cameras throughout the labs. He glanced up momentarily, but returned to the screens. The two guards at the front entrance began to walk towards Calhoun and his stretcher.

"I thought you were sent here to dispose of that body. Where are you taking it now?"

"I just received orders from HQ. They want it taken back for further testing."

The soldier nodded slowly, obviously confused, but not willing to question any orders that came from HQ. He began to step away then paused, holding his hand to his ear. The soldier listened to his earpiece momentarily, then looked up at Calhoun with a start.

"Now wait just a minute!" the soldier exclaimed as he brought his MP5 up to face Calhoun. "HQ just ordered a lockdown of this facility. They said that the hazard suit was going to try to escape, and they warned of anyone trying to sneak anything out."

"They were right to do so," Freeman said coldly as he sat up on the stretcher, the sheet falling to the side. He raised his shotgun to bear on the soldier and fired, splattering blood on the glass wall behind him. Calhoun had his pistol out and killed the other soldier before he could return fire.

The guard behind the front desk ducked down and pounded the large red 'lockdown' button. Before Gordon or Calhoun could escape, large metal plates pounded down over the entrance, shielding the glass walls. Their escape route was effectively blocked off.

Calhoun and Freeman turned and ran to the desk with weapons held ready, but the soldier ducking behind it was in no mood to fight. He cowered before them, a look of pure terror imprinted on his face.

"Open that shield," Freeman ordered.

"I can't!" the soldier protested, "The shield can only be opened from outside. The lab is completely locked down now. That shield is solid steel. Every exterior door and window is shielded with it. There's no way out for any of us, now."

"You're not the brightest guy in the world, are you?" Calhoun asked, exasperated. This dumb grunt might have just killed them all. They might be trapped in this lab forever if they couldn't find another way out.

"I was just following orders!" the soldier gasped, as if he was explaining himself to the devil at the gates of hell.

Gordon had heard that phrase before, after one of the soldiers had murdered his friend, Walter Bennett. The memory brought back a rush of anger, and Gordon picked up the soldier by his collar, using the suit's strength to hold him in midair with little apparent effort. "You're going to get us out of here if it's the last thing you do. It very well might be. Now think, long and hard. Is there another way out?"

The soldier clawed at his collar, trying to ease the pressure on his throat. "All right, all right!" he gasped. "There might be another way!"

Gordon dropped the soldier back to the ground. "Go on," he urged.

"There's this experimental laser on the second floor, in the weapons lab. I saw them using it to cut steel when we got here. You might be able to use it to cut through that shield. Okay?"

"You'd better not be lying to us," Gordon said menacingly, "Otherwise we'll be back for you, and you'll wish we had killed you this time."

Gordon swung his shotgun butt at the side of the soldier's head, knocking him unconscious but not doing any permanent damage.

Calhoun looked down at the security monitors built into the desk. He saw many camera angles of soldiers rushing down halls, all of them heading for the lobby.

"Gordon, I think we need to hit the road!" he said as he gestured towards the monitors.

"I can handle them. I've dealt with worse odds than this."

Calhoun cleared his throat. Gordon understood. Gordon could handle these soldiers with his hazard suit, but Calhoun was much more vulnerable. They couldn't afford to separate in an unknown environment, and they couldn't afford to take any huge risks. Calhoun had saved Gordon's life, and Gordon didn't want Calhoun to have to lose his own in the process.

Soldiers approached them from the lab's central corridor and one of the side corridors. This left them with a third and final corridor to escape through. Gordon and Calhoun ran down it as the soldiers entered the lobby firing, their bullets tearing holes through the front desk and chipping the tiles behind it.

Rather than race down the hallway after them, the soldiers held their position in the lobby.

"Good job, maggots," the squad's sergeant complimented the group, "We've got them just where we want them. Private, man that console and get ready to unleash our little surprise."

The soldier obeyed, running to the front desk and finding their targets on the monitors. "I've got them, sir," the soldier reported. "They're approaching the specimen room now."

Calhoun and Gordon emerged in a room full of large glass tubes holding life not from this planet. Each of the tubes housed a creature from Xen. It reminded Calhoun of the menagerie in Superman's Fortress of Solitude that he had read about so much as a boy. One tube housed a group of Barnacles like the one that had killed Dr. Graham back in the sewers. Another housed a head-crab, bouncing against the glass tube trying to get to the newcomers. There was an alligator-like creature Gordon had seen before on Xen. Its tube labeled it a 'Bullsquid.' A tube held a creature neither of them had seen yet, a small dog-like creature labeled a 'Houndeye.' It seemed harmless enough, but they had come to realize that nothing from Xen was truly harmless.

The large glass tubes that ran along the edges of the lab paled in comparison to the large display in the center of the room. This tube dwarfed the others, as did the creature within. It was one of the Grunts Calhoun had encountered near Black Mesa's entrance.

The duo was so transfixed by the huge displays that they forgot they were being pursued by soldiers bent on killing them. Calhoun glanced at the hallway they had come from to see if they were still in danger but found that the doorway they had come through had closed behind them. Calhoun approached it and tried to open it but the door would not budge. They had been locked in.

Calhoun was about to tell Gordon when they discovered their problems were only beginning. Red lights flashed above the tubes throughout the room. Someone was releasing the creatures! The tubes hissed as they depressurized and began to rise from their bases.

"Gordon!" Calhoun called over the wailing klaxons, "The only thing that can dent that Grunt's armor is a grenade, and I wouldn't use one in such close quarters. We need to get out of here!"

Gordon nodded, tossing his shotgun to Calhoun and moving to the doors at the far side of the room. They had little interest in going back into the waiting arms of the soldiers in the lobby, so the only way left for them to go was deeper into the labs, hopefully coming across the weapon labs and the laser within. Gordon pushed his gloved fingers into the tiny crack in the far doorway and used all of his suit's strength to pull the doors apart. The door's hydraulic pistons groaned in protest, but slowly gave way, pulling apart at a painfully slow rate. It would take a few precious seconds for Gordon to get the door open wide enough to escape through.

Calhoun stood behind Gordon, shotgun held ready. The tubes continued their slow rise as the first of the creatures escaped. The head-crab leapt towards them only to explode midair after absorbing a blast from Calhoun's shotgun. Calhoun fired again as the houndeye bounded towards them. He felt a pang of guilt at the pathetic whine the creature gave as it died, but he doubted the creature had been running to give him a big sloppy puppy kiss.

Calhoun looked up again and saw the face that would haunt his nightmares for the rest of his life. The grunt's face reminded Calhoun of the beast from the Predator movies. The claws surrounding its face clicked together with anger as it looked at the two intruders before it. The grunt made a noise that could only be described as a laugh at their futile attempt to escape. It swung its powerful arm around to bear on them, ready to fire its deadly hornets.

Calhoun knew he wouldn't survive the attack, but wondered if Gordon's armor would withstand the continued drilling from the hornets. The hazard suits could withstand the damage from small-arms fire, as the nanites could quickly repair the damage from bullet ricochets. However, these hornets did not bounce off like bullets. They would stick in and keep drilling, possibly quicker than the nanites within the hazard suits could respond to the damage. These might be the creatures that had destroyed the hazard suits on Xen.

Calhoun's suspicions would not be confirmed just yet. As the grunt prepared to fire, something splashed against its armor from behind. The grunt turned with a start and saw that the bullsquid had escaped from its tube and taken out its frustration on the first living thing it came across. It had spat something from its squid-like mouth at the grunt, and when the grunt turned to face the new threat they saw that the spit was burning away at the heavy armor. The bullsquid's spit must have been a highly potent acid, and if it did that to the armor they did not wish to find out what it did to human flesh.

The grunt unleashed its anger on the bullsquid, filling its alligator-like body with tiny drilling hornets.

"GO!" Gordon shouted as he held the door slightly open for Calhoun. He jumped through and Gordon followed close behind as the door slammed shut a split second later. The heavy door pinged from the impact of hornets from the grunt's weapon. The door was not heavy enough to insulate the grunt's inhuman scream of frustration. It had escaped from one prison only to be trapped in a slightly larger one.

Back in the lobby, the soldiers had revived the unconscious trooper they had discovered behind the front desk. He had joined his fellow soldiers around the monitors, watching the battle with as much interest as the rest despite his pounding headache. The soldiers had been watching the spectacle as if it had been a boxing match on television. They had booed loudly when their prey had escaped through the heavy doors.

"They got away, sir!" the soldier manning the controls announced.

The sergeant in command came over and inspected the monitors. "Open the doors, Private. We'll see if that alien can finish them off, then we'll go pick up the pieces ourselves."

On command, the far doors rose and the alien grunt quickly bounded through to newfound freedom. It smelled its prey up ahead and closed in to collect its kills.

Gordon and Calhoun emerged from the hallway into another lab designed for studying creatures from Xen. In the center of this room was a pen that could hold a creature for testing. Suspended above the pen was a spidery device with electrodes dangling out from it on all sides. Gordon recognized the device's purpose. It would fill the room with extreme electric current powerful enough to kill any living thing trapped inside. The pen had been set up to study the effect of extreme electricity on the creatures from Xen.

There was another door on the far side of the room that would lead on through the lab. They walked towards it to continue their search for the laser when they heard the loud pounding footsteps approaching from the hallway behind them. The grunt had escaped from the menagerie and was coming to finish the job. If they were going to get rid of this monster, this room would be the perfect place to do so.

Gordon looked around the room, spotting the controls behind a plastic wall designed to protect the operators from the powerful electric currents that would flood the room during an experiment. Gordon and Calhoun raced behind the plastic wall, Calhoun nervously peering through a plexiglass window as Gordon worked to prepare the device for firing. The device became fully charged just as the grunt rounded the corner and cautiously entered the room. Gordon and Calhoun ducked for cover, waiting for the right moment to fire the electrodes.

The grunt moved very much like a human soldier, sweeping its weapon from side to side looking for an unseen threat. It could smell its prey close by but it could not see them. As soon as the grunt was clear of the doors, another klaxon sounded as the doors slammed shut behind it.

The grunt turned with a start, threatened by the sudden loud noise and flashing lights. Its instincts screamed for it to escape from this place, but its efforts were futile. It had found a new prison, and this one would be its last. The electrodes lowered from the ceiling, and the grunt could feel its metal armor begin to tingle with an electric charge. The grunt's armor made for a fine conductor for the electricity that erupted from the device. A large visible bolt of electricity erupted from the grunt's armor, arcing through the air to an electrode tendon on the device. The grunt roared in pain as its internal organs were scorched from the heat. The grunt was held upright by the bolt of electricity for several seconds before the device finally powered down. As the electrical charge within the device faded, the grunt fell to the ground face first, smoking like an overcooked steak. The smell almost made Calhoun gag.

A chime announced that the charge had dissipated and it was clear to come out from behind the plastic shield. The doors on both sides of the room opened again, clearing the way for Gordon and Calhoun to escape.

The soldiers had watched the daring escape with a sense of awe. They had really kicked that alien grunt's ass! The soldiers had actually cheered when it died, but had stopped quickly when they realized that they were cheering for their targets.

"Come on, maggots," the sergeant growled, "We've got a job to do before we can get out of here."

The soldiers raced down the hall after their prey, eager to report to their superiors that the hazard suit was destroyed so they could give the 'all clear' signal and leave this godforsaken place.

Gordon and Calhoun emerged from the second hallway into a room that could best be described as a battle arena. The large rectangular room was much like the examination room, with holding tubes scattered around the room featuring a wide variety of Xen fauna. The center of the room featured various obstacles and targets scattered around haphazardly. The room seemed to serve as a testing ground for the creatures, to see how they performed in various combat situations. Above the testing grounds, a control room looked down on the arena. This must have been the highlight of the tour for any visitors important enough to gain access to this facility.

Once again, they heard something approaching from behind them. These footsteps were human, but somehow the army boots slapping the linoleum tiles were more intimidating than the sounds the grunt had made. The soldiers had decided to come finish the job themselves.

Gordon and Calhoun raced up a ramp to the control room and found that they could control all of the arena's capabilities from there. The soldiers had thought it might be entertaining to watch them get torn to pieces by aliens back in the specimen room. It would be interesting to see if they found the situation just as entertaining when they had a dose of their own medicine.

The soldiers poured into the arena, quickly fanning out around the room in search of their targets. As soon as the last soldier entered, Gordon began pushing buttons on the controls. The doors to the arena slammed shut, as did the door to the control room. Two specimen tubes began to open, releasing two very angry grunts eager to take their frustration out on the soldiers in the arena.

The soldiers clustered in the center of the arena in an ad-hoc defensive formation behind the limited cover of a low barricade. The soldiers had been trained for situations like this, and they had quickly identified the best defensive position in the arena. It was much like a situation they had faced during basic training, only then they had been facing enemies with paintball guns or blanks, not bloodthirsty aliens bent on tearing them to shreds. Nonetheless, their training kept them from overreacting or panicking.

The alien grunts had also been well trained. They approached the defensive formation from opposite sides. One emerged from cover and fired a few hornets at the soldiers, hoping to draw their fire and give the grunt behind the formation an opening to flank and catch the soldiers off of their guard. A soldier was hit in the neck by the hornets and fell to the ground clutching at his gushing throat. The soldiers felt the urge to turn to the threat and unload their weapons, but they were trained better than that. The soldiers remained in their formation and spotted the grunt trying to approach discreetly from the rear.

"Fire in the hole!" a soldier called as he unloaded a grenade from his M-203 grenade launcher. The projectile exploded at the grunt's feet, killing the alien. The other grunt saw that its tactical advantage had been lost and charged. It fired hornets wildly as it approached the formation without abandon.

The grunt killed all but two of the soldiers before it succumbed to a grenade like its former comrade.

The two surviving soldiers readied themselves for another wave of attacks.

"Throw down your weapons and you can walk out of here with your lives," Gordon called over the public address system in the arena. "Enough blood has been shed already."

"I'm afraid we can't do that," the sergeant shouted back. "We have orders to kill you, and we can't leave until we've done so."

"This is your last chance. We can kill you with the push of a button from in here. We don't want it to come to that. We know of another way out of here. We're going to use the laser in the weapons lab upstairs to cut through the walls and escape. That's what we all want, after all: to get out of here alive."

"I can't let you do that. I won't disobey my orders. I'm no traitor!" the sergeant exclaimed. He opened fire on the control room with his sidearm. His subordinate joined in, firing his MP5. The bullets bounced off of the bulletproof glass with little effect.

There was no way to get out of the control room with the soldiers loose down there. They had no choice.

Gordon sighed resignedly and pressed a button. They would never defeat these aliens so long as they were busy fighting each other. These soldiers' lives had been wasted.

The remaining grunts were released from their tubes. It was a matter of seconds before the two soldiers laid dead from the hornet assault. Their bloody, hole-riddled bodies fell to the ground like rag dolls. The grunts gave a victorious war cry as they looked down on the dead soldiers.

"I don't see how our situation has improved," Calhoun observed. They had a room full of grunts to deal with instead of two soldiers.

"They designed this arena well," Gordon replied soberly, "Cleaning up after battles is as easy as a push of a button."

From the ceiling of the arena, a familiar device emerged. It was a much larger version of the electrode device they had used to kill the first grunt. Once again, klaxons announced the impending danger to anything loose in the arena. The electrodes fired, leaving a room full of smoking dead bodies.

The soldiers had died in battle, which struck Gordon as fitting. Gordon hadn't been willing to use the electrodes against the soldiers. No human deserved to die like that, burned to death from the inside out. It would be like the electric chair without the luxury of the wet sponges. His compassion had fallen short of protecting the alien grunts from that fate, however.

Their way was clear now. Every remaining soldier had been killed during the battle, and every alien grunt had been killed by the cleanup. Gordon and Calhoun found little pleasure in their victory. They were both numb from all of the violence and killing. They knew that before this day was over they would have to kill many more or face death themselves. That grim fact weighed heavily on their minds.

For now, they were granted a much needed intermission from the violence. There were a few creatures loose in the weapons lab, but none posed a serious threat. The laser laboratory was a labyrinth of mirrors and targets. At the center of the maze was their goal, just as the soldier at the front desk had described it. The laser was aimed at a prism which would send the beam towards several of the mirrors spread throughout the room. A large "Wear Goggles At All Times" sign on the far wall brought a chuckle from Gordon's lips. This laser was powerful enough to puncture through solid steel. But don't forget your goggles!

The laser was mounted powerfully in place to prevent the beam from misfiring and killing a scientist. Gordon used his suit's strength to tear the laser out of its emplacement and he held it like an oversized mini-gun. If all went well, Gordon would cut a hole in the wall big enough for them to escape through.

"Jesus, Gordon," Calhoun exclaimed. "You look like the Terminator holding that thing!"

"You'd better wait in the hall, Barney," Gordon warned. "There's no telling what this laser will do now that I've tampered with it. Besides, you forgot your goggles."

Calhoun happily obliged, and went to guard the hallway while Gordon prepared to fire the laser.

The power of the laser surprised Gordon. The laser had no recoil, but the blast tore through the cinderblock wall and its steel shell as if they had been made of paper. It was a matter of seconds before Gordon had carved a decent sized hole in the wall. When Gordon was finished, he tossed the laser aside. It wasn't designed for portability, and would be useless without the power cable running from its stand.

Gordon went through the hole first, making the one-story drop without missing a step. The suit eased his landing, cushioning his vital parts as they hit the ground. Gordon dragged a metal dumpster over for Calhoun to jump into. Calhoun didn't know what was in the soft, plastic trash bags that filled the dumpster, and he didn't want to know. After seeing what went on in the bio lab, he didn't want to think what kind of trash they generated.

"Where to now, Barney?" Gordon asked. He was unfamiliar with this part of the surface complex. Most of his time here had been below the ground.

"The garage where they've got Gina and Colette isn't far from here. It won't be an easy trip, though. I passed a pretty serious military checkpoint on my way down here. They bought my story about bringing the grunt's body to the bio lab, but it won't be as easy getting past them with your hazard suit, Gordon. We might have to fight our way through. They've got tanks, Gordon. Not even your hazard suit can stand up to that kind of firepower."

"Don't worry, Barney," Gordon said reassuringly. "You've still got your uniform, and I've still got my hazard suit. We might be outnumbered, but we'll find a way to outsmart them."

Calhoun couldn't help but grin. "They won't know what hit them, sir."


	9. Surface Tension

**Black Mesa**

**By Patrick Williams**

Based on the storyline from Half-Life, a game from Valve Software and Sierra Studios. The Half-Life franchise is the property of Sierra Studios. All rights are reserved to Sierra Studios.

**Chapter 9 - Surface Tension**

**Black Mesa Surface**

Captain Wellington swore under his breath.

This entire operation was falling apart, and there was little he could do but try to slow down the collapse. His team was assigned to enforce a road block along the road to Black Mesa's bio labs. HQ was convinced that one of the hazard suits was still loose and would come through this checkpoint. Wellington knew that this position was a good choke point, but he still felt exposed. He had heard the rumors about Freeman. He wasn't sure if he believed them or not. Deep down, Freeman was only human, wasn't he?

_Damn those scientists_, Wellington thought. The operation had been going by the letter before they had shown up. Aside from a minor snag at the Lambda Complex gates, their containment operation had been going well. The military had gained a stranglehold on the surface, and nothing had been getting past their blockades. Then Freeman and his buddies had arrived. HQ had seen fit to disable them rather than destroy them, and of course they had escaped custody. If they had just blown them to hell from the start they wouldn't have lost the initiative. Instead, the General had, in his infinite wisdom, decided to send half of his command deep below Black Mesa's surface to hunt for the scientists and disable them again. The fact that the soldiers had orders against actually killing their targets severely limited their options in the tight quarters underground. The soldiers had been out maneuvered and slaughtered by the blitzkrieg assault of the scientists. Wellington could still hear their desperate calls for help and their subsequent screams echoing through his mind. He doubted he would ever be able to forget them.

Since the disaster below the surface, the soldiers had been in a fighting retreat. A majority of their force had been killed, and the reinforcements had done little to stem to momentum the aliens had gained. Like a whirlwind, the aliens had swarmed upon the troops as if they had sensed their preoccupation with the hazard suits below the surface. The aliens had attacked precisely at their greatest moment of weakness, supported from the air by alien fliers aptly referred to as Mantas. The skies above them had erupted in a spectacular air battle, and it was difficult to tell who controlled the skies anymore. Several minutes earlier they had lost contact with the AWACS, no doubt destroyed by Mantas. Without guidance from the sky, the soldiers, already reeling from the massacre below the surface, were caught with their pants down. The surface campus was now littered with the bodies of fallen soldiers, and the air was heavy with the stench of death.

The capture of two of the hazard suits had been little solace to the soldiers, but it had brought a sense of hope that they could yet achieve victory. The surviving soldiers had been assigned defensive positions around the garage where the hazard suits were being held. Those hazard suits were their last hope of getting into the Lambda Complex and completing their mission. If they lost the hazard suits, they might as well fly back to Santego with their tails between their legs.

The news that Freeman had gotten loose and was coming towards them had deeply troubled Wellington. Wellington feared that he and his men would share the same fate as his comrades below the surface. However, there had been three hazard suits below the surface. Wellington tried to assure himself that his team could handle just one of them. Besides, they were no longer wasting their lives trying to disable the suits. From now on, they were playing for keeps. Wellington would see that this egghead scientist in a multi-million dollar suit of armor would get what he had coming to him. Not even Freeman's bulletproof armor would withstand a shot from his 120mm cannon.

Wellington received another call from HQ. Freeman was almost upon them. It was time to get ready.

Wellington opened the hatch of his M1A2 Abrams tank. He inspected the defensive formation and satisfied himself that his troops were ready. All they would have to do is keep the scientist busy long enough for the tank to line up one good shot. Then they would finally be free to use the two remaining hazard suits to get into the Lambda Complex, complete their mission, and get the hell out of this place.

He called out to his men, passing the news along. Freeman was on his way.

**Sector D - Cafeteria**

Shephard slowly regained consciousness. He wasn't sure how he was able to do so. The fall from the helicopter should have killed him. Yet he felt little pain now. In fact, he felt pretty good. One doesn't get up from a low altitude parachute jump feeling like a million bucks. Had the whole ordeal been a nightmare? Would he find himself in his bunk at Santego? It had all seemed so real, though. However, that bit about an alien ship did seem too strange to be true. Hopefully he would open his eyes and find the familiar surroundings of his barracks.

Shephard prepared for the worst and opened his eyes. A bright light was suspended above him, leading him to believe that he was in a hospital operating room. How much of his nightmare had been true? The tiled walls around him supported his operating room theory, but there was something odd here. Shephard saw an oven, sink, and a row of freezers not far from the table on which he lay. He wasn't in a hospital; he was in a kitchen.

"He's coming around!" a voice shouted.

A man rushed to Shephard's side. Shephard did not recognize him, but a familiar face joined him at his side. It was Jones, the team's medic.

"Don't worry, sir," Jones said comfortingly, "We stopped the bleeding."

"What bleeding? The last thing I remember was falling out of that helicopter."

"The landing ruptured some of your blood vessels, sir. We waited at the LZ for a medevac, but without Sarge's radio, we didn't know if anyone was coming for us and couldn't call for help."

"What happened to Sarge's radio?" Shephard asked, knowing the answer before it was given.

"Sarge is dead, sir. The impact killed him and shattered his radio. You were out cold when we found you, sir. You were bleeding internally and there was nothing I could do to help you in the field."

Jones continued his story, describing their trek from their LZ through the surface campus in search of medical help. They hadn't found any sign of other soldiers, aside from their dead bodies. Jones hadn't been able to tell what had killed them until after the ambush. Jones had a difficult time describing their foes, as he had never seen anything like the aliens from Xen. They had been flanked by Vortigaunts and Grunts and caught completely off guard. The soldiers had been well equipped to fight the aliens, however, even if they hadn't known what they were getting into when they boarded that doomed helicopter. The team had had little trouble dispatching the alien slaves, and while the grunts did pose a challenge, Jackson had an M-203 grenade launcher that took care of them nicely. Normally, Shephard would have doubted such a story about close encounters with aliens, but he had seen something destroy Goose Three that could only be described as an alien ship, and all of what Jones told him only confirmed his suspicions.

When the dust had settled from the ambush, the team continued on, holding on to the hope that they would find someone that could save Shephard. The remainder of their journey was a series of close encounters of the hostile kind, and from Jones' report, the entire facility appeared to be overrun with aliens. Part of Shephard was grateful he had not been conscious to see the horrors the team had experienced on the surface. Clearly, the aliens were getting the better of the military.

The team had stumbled upon a group of local security officers in a nearby truck yard. The guards had been convinced that the soldiers were there to kill them, but the team talked them out of it before the situation came to blows. The security guards had been the outer line of defense for an encampment of survivors of the invasion. After realizing that the team hadn't come to kill them, the guards were more than happy to guide them through the warehouse to their encampment deep below the surface. The survivors had settled in to wait for a rescue from the military. They hadn't expected their knights in shining armor to need the rescuing themselves.

Being dragged several miles hadn't helped Shephard's internal bleeding, and he was close to death when he arrived in the cafeteria. They had taken him into the kitchen and gone to work immediately. Normally, it would have taken a very delicate surgery to save his life, but the scientists were equipped with next generation medical technology. The other man present, whom Shephard learned was named Dr. Eli Vance, had done a great deal of R&D on a High-Intensity Focused Ultrasound scanner. This handheld device could scan a body and locate internal injuries and then use highly focused ultrasound waves to create enough heat at the source of the wound to cauterize it and allow the blood to begin to coagulate and heal on its own.

"Dr. Vance performed a miracle to save your life, sir," Jones said, as he concluded his story. "You would have died before getting back to base or to a hospital."

Shephard turned his head to face the man standing next to Jones.

"I suppose I have you to thank for this miracle?" Shephard asked.

"Yeah, I suppose you do. It was quite simple, though. More like an Etch-a-Sketch than anything else."

"Except this Etch-a-Sketch could have killed me, Doctor," Shephard pointed out. "Thank you for not missing."

"Think nothing of it, Corporal." Vance replied, smiling, "There is something you can do to repay us, if it's not too much trouble."

"Name it, Doctor. I owe you my life."

"To put it simply, we need to get out of here. We've been waiting down here to be rescued since the initial disaster, and we've been fighting off aliens since we arrived here. We have plenty of weapons and ammunition, but their attacks are getting stronger and we're on the verge of being overwhelmed. We were hoping for a larger rescue party, but beggars can't be choosy. Your help would be greatly appreciated if you could bring us to safety."

"It's the least we could do, Doctor," Shephard replied. "We're headed for the nearest Army camp we can find. We'd be happy to drop you off there."

"It's settled then. You should be fit enough to travel, Corporal. We should leave before another wave attacks."

Jones and Vance helped Shephard to his feet, and he was more than capable of walking from there. They left the kitchen and stepped into the cafeteria.

Shephard marveled at the ingenuity of the scientists. They had set up an effective defensive front using overturned tables. The outer edges of the fortress were patrolled by men in black and blue body armor, with the words "Security" printed across their backs in clear white text. Within their makeshift fortress, dozens of men and women in white lab coats stood or sat about, clearly anxious and ready to go. Among the security guards stood the rest of Shephard's team; Tower, Jackson, and Chavez. They turned when the kitchen door opened and rushed forward to greet Shephard. Jones joined them in line, saluting their new leader.

"At ease, team," Shephard spoke in a businesslike tone. "Since I was second in command to Sarge, I'm assuming full command now. We didn't learn our orders before Sarge bought the farm, but I'm sure our mission here was to find these scientists and bring them to safety. We don't know what we're going up against, but we're not going to let a few freaks from outer space stop us from completing our mission. Let's get packed up and get the hell out of here."

"Yes, sir!" the team replied as one.

They were on their way in a matter of minutes. They moved in a loose escort formation. Chavez took the point position, checking to make sure their way was clear. Shephard led the scientists, keeping them out of sight while Chavez scouted ahead. Chavez used hand gestures to communicate with Shephard and the rest of the group. Tower stood close behind Shephard with his M-249 locked and loaded. The scientists followed in a loosely organized mass with the security guards acting as shepherds guiding the flock. Jones and Jackson took up the rear, weary of ambush from behind after hearing tales of the heated battles that had taken place in the cafeteria behind them.

They moved into the warehouse facility without incident. Chavez was little more than a shadow as he moved invisibly and silently among the boxes in the warehouse. If Shephard hadn't been following him with a close eye, he might not have seen the urgent hand signal. Chavez raised his right fist into the air and held it there.

Shephard repeated the signal for those behind him but realized that the scientists might not understand it. He took a chance and forcefully whispered "Take cover!"

The scientists needed little urging, and quickly disappeared behind boxes. Tower attached the M-249's tripod and placed it on top of one of the boxes. Shephard stood beside him, his M-16 held ready. The security guards took places behind cover, shotguns and pistols aimed to face any coming threat. Anything that came around the corner ahead of them would be torn to shreds.

Chavez crouched, perfectly still. Shephard watched for a signal of any kind. He saw Chavez take his left hand, point two fingers towards his eyes, then point down at the ground beside him.

"Stay here," Shephard whispered at the scientists behind him as he quickly but silently moved to crouch beside Chavez.

He quickly saw what Chavez had seen and why he had been so cautious.

Ahead of them, several men in black jumpsuits and heavy body armor stood guard, their faces hidden by black ski masks and night vision goggles. They looked like black ops commandos. A group of them carried a large cone-shaped object down one of the aisles of boxes. Both Chavez and Shephard immediately recognized what it was. It was a nuclear warhead.

Chavez and Shephard shared a look of understanding. There were two possibilities. It was possible that these black ops troops were part of a legitimate government cleanup crew to remove the warheads from the warehouse before they fell into enemy hands. That would be perfectly understandable. However, it was also possible that these commandos weren't from the government and that they were stealing the warhead to sell on the black market or worse, to use themselves. If that was the case, the situation had changed dramatically.

Shephard waited with Chavez and watched as the black ops commandos left the area with the nuclear warhead in tow. Their business here apparently done, the commandos continued through the warehouse towards the exit.

"Did you run into these guys on your way down, Chavez?"

"No, sir. Those guys came out of thin air, literally. A big ball of electricity appeared out of nowhere and this g-man in a business suit seemed to just pop right out of it. Those black ops troops popped out next and seemed to know just where to go to find that warhead. The man in the suit left through another one of those balls of electricity, but I guess those black ops guys decided to leave the old fashioned way."

"This morning I never would have believed that story, Chavez. But if I believe that story about the aliens, I guess teleportation isn't any more far fetched. What's your take?"

"They sure as hell weren't Army or Marines. Special Ops, maybe, but I think we should wait and find out what they're doing with that warhead before we walk up and say 'Hi.' Either way, I don't trust anyone who appears out of thin air and steals a nuclear warhead, sir."

"All right, we'll follow and see what their game is before deciding what to do next. If nothing else, they might lead us to the nearest camp. Keep an eye out, Chavez."

"Yes, sir."

Shephard walked back to the group as Chavez disappeared back into the shadows.

"What's going on, sir?" Tower asked. Dr. Vance approached from the cluster of scientists to hear the explanation as well.

Shephard's explanation was short but effective, "In a nutshell, this situation just went from bad to worse."

**Black Mesa Surface**

Like a modern day Paul Revere, a soldier came running towards the checkpoint from the direction of the bio labs. "Freeman is coming! Freeman is coming!" the soldier shouted in a voice that would have made the revolutionaries proud.

Like a bright orange flash, Gordon Freeman burst onto the scene, firing his MP5. The soldiers opened fire immediately, and Freeman's body disappeared in a shower of sparks.

"Fire!" Wellington shouted into the body of the tank.

The tank's cannon fired and hit the building behind Freeman, sending bricks and pieces of shrapnel flying in every direction. The round had missed Freeman by a matter of inches. Freeman dove for cover behind the concrete dividers blocking the road.

"Move in!" Wellington shouted at the men huddled behind the sandbag bunkers.

The soldiers rushed forward, grenades ready. Their bullets might not do much against that armor, but the shrapnel from their grenades would tear the suit apart bit by bit. As soon as they were within throwing range, the soldiers began chucking grenades over the divider.

Several of the grenades were thrown back towards the soldiers, who scattered to find cover. It was literally raining grenades as Freeman scrambled to throw them away before their timers expired. He almost made it. The grenades began exploding around the checkpoint, sending equal amounts of sand, dirt, and blood into the air. The final grenade thrown exploded beside Freeman, sending him flying over the divider and out from behind his cover.

"Fire!" Wellington shouted again.

The turret groaned momentarily as it adjusted its aim before firing. The ground beside Freeman's body exploded, sending Freeman flying through the air once again. Freeman landed in a heap beside a sandbag bunker. Freeman struggled to crawl behind the sandbags, clearly shaken. He seemed human after all. The soldiers sensed this as well and moved in with more grenades.

Wellington was about to order the tank to fire again when something struck him from behind. He never knew what hit him.

Calhoun pushed the tank commander's body down through the tank's hatch. He dropped a grenade into the body of the tank after the commander, slammed the hatch shut, and jumped away. A deep explosion announced the death of the crew members within. Fortunately for Calhoun, the grenade's shrapnel did not detonate the tank's ammunition. The resulting explosion would have taken Calhoun out with it.

Calhoun's BDU disguise had again worked like a charm. No one had questioned him when he rushed towards the checkpoint warning about Freeman. By the time anyone began to notice him moving towards the tank, Gordon had arrived and provided the perfect distraction.

Calhoun climbed back onto the smoking tank and grabbed hold of the .50 caliber machine gun. The soldiers were getting ready to toss another grenade volley, and Calhoun wasn't sure Gordon's suit could withstand another bombardment. Calhoun hated to do it, but he opened fire at the cluster of soldiers. They were caught completely off guard and most of them lay dead before they realized who was shooting at them. A few turned to shoot back before being mowed down, but they fired wildly and their bullets flew wide of their targets.

Moments later, a blissful silence fell over the checkpoint. Bodies littered the area.

Gordon stepped out from behind the sandbags. "Took your time, didn't you?" Gordon chided.

"Last time I save _your_ ass!" Calhoun laughed nervously, trying to forget the fact that they were surrounded by dead bodies.

Gordon tried to relax, but in truth he was still terrified. Prior to that battle, the suit had brought him a feeling of invulnerability that he hadn't felt since his teenage years. Gordon had felt that there was nothing the soldiers could do to stop him. However, Gordon had just come dangerously close to death. If the tank gunner hadn't been such a bad shot he would probably be dead right now. And the grenades had taken a serious toll on his suit's power. One more direct barrage of shrapnel could have wiped the suit's power completely. Without power, his suit's nanites would have been unable to repair any damage. His armor would have become a heavy coffin, pinning him to the ground as the grenades tore him to shreds. Gordon felt lucky to be alive.

"Look!" Calhoun called, pointing down the road towards their objective.

Several Bradley tanks were rapidly rolling toward them, no doubt full of more grenade-toting soldiers. Gordon felt his stomach rise into his throat as panic gripped his heart.

"I don't know what to do, Barney!" Gordon said, his voice betraying his panic.

"Relax, Gordon. Look what I found." Calhoun said as he pointed to a shack across from the tank. Stacked against the shack were several wooden boxes marked "Explosives." Several long green tubes leaned against the boxes. They were M-136 AT4 anti-tank rocket launchers.

Gordon and Calhoun both picked up M-136s. Like most light anti-tank weapons, each launcher was issued with a single round of ammunition. After firing, the tubes would become worthless and thrown aside. The weapon seemed fairly intuitive, with a sight down the side of the barrel and large buttons labeled "SAFE" and "FIRE." Gordon and Calhoun crouched down with the M-136s propped on their shoulders and aimed at the approaching Bradley tanks.

The rockets flew almost faster than the eye could follow. They covered the hundred meter distance to the approaching tanks in a fraction of a second. The warhead was shaped like a football, with a fin assembly guiding it along its path towards the Bradleys. Upon impact, timers within the warheads activated themselves, waiting for the proper moment to explode. Directional jets fired behind the warheads, penetrating the armor plating of the Bradley tanks. When the warhead had penetrated a certain distance, the warheads exploded and sent shrapnel and incendiary fluid throughout the interior of the tanks. The troops inside would have been burned alive if not for the resulting explosions. The tanks disappeared in great balls of flame. Several secondary explosions could be heard as the ammunition within the tanks detonated from the heat. The entire process from firing to detonation took less than a second. The troops inside never knew what had hit them.

The M-136s hadn't even recoiled from the launches. Gordon and Calhoun were shocked at how easy it had been.

A third Bradley appeared down the road, and Calhoun repeated the process with a new rocket launcher. The third Bradley shared the fate of the other two. For a moment, Gordon and Calhoun felt they were in the clear. However, a new challenge presented itself. An Abrams tank appeared from behind the wreckage of the three burning Bradleys. The Abrams quickly approached, pushing the wreckage out of its path as it did so.

Gordon grabbed another M-136 and was prepared to fire, but Calhoun stopped him.

"That's an Abrams, Gordon. They're shielded against rockets. The only thing that could stop that thing is a land mine or another tank shell. You don't have any land mines handy do you?"

"No, but I think we can come up with something better. Follow me!"

Gordon pulled Calhoun out of the road and back towards the checkpoint. Gordon's plan didn't sit well with Calhoun, but he couldn't come up with anything better. Calhoun lay down in a group of shredded bodies, trying his best to look dead. He clutched his pistol in his hand beneath his body. He would be ready when he saw his opening.

Gordon tried to disappear beneath a sandbag bunker. He too would wait for the proper moment. A sound in the distance made Gordon's blood run cold. A helicopter was approaching fast. An Osprey appeared over the horizon, no doubt bringing more troops with it. They would have to move quickly or their plans would be ruined.

The Abrams wheeled into the checkpoint. The tank's commander was exposed above the turret's hatch, scanning the area for signs of life. The turret rotated to face any possible threats. Calhoun wasted no time waiting for a better opening. He emerged from his prone position and fired twice, hitting the commander in the back and shoulder. The commander's body disappeared through the open hatch. The tank stopped in its tracks, the crew members clearly caught off guard and unsure of how to proceed.

Gordon saw his opportunity. He rushed forward and leaped onboard the tank. He climbed to its roof and dropped down through the hatch.

Calhoun watched and waited. The Osprey was now directly overhead, orbiting the checkpoint. The soldiers onboard gazed down, surveying the carnage. Calhoun again pretended to be among the dead, careful not to move a muscle. To Calhoun's horror, he saw ropes drop down from the Osprey as it hovered over the checkpoint. Soldiers were coming down, and they would catch Gordon inside the tank.

Several soldiers rappelled down the ropes from the Osprey. They fanned out and inspected the area, probably looking for Gordon. They moved as if they expected him to jump out from behind every corner. Fortunately, they were too tense to notice the fact that the tank hadn't moved in a few minutes. Calhoun was relieved to see they were ignoring the tank and Gordon for now.

A soldier moved amongst the bodies, looking for survivors. He was a medic, as the red cross on his helmet indicated. He was coming dangerously close to where Calhoun lay. Calhoun wasn't sure what they would do if they found him alive. He would have a hard time explaining the fact that he didn't have a scratch on him. Calhoun tried not to flinch as the medic approached him. Calhoun kept his eyes closed, but knew any second now he would feel the medic's fingers on his neck taking his pulse, and then the gig would be up.

Calhoun never realized just how close the medic got. The medic came within inches of Calhoun's neck before a soldier across the checkpoint shouted out "Hey, we got a live one over here!" The medic rushed to help the survivor, and for now Calhoun was safe.

With a sudden jerk, the tank began moving again. Calhoun couldn't tell if Gordon was in command or not, but the tank was clearly headed back towards the garage where Gina and Colette were being held. It was still too risky for Calhoun to follow it just yet. For now, Gordon was on his own. Calhoun had his own problems to worry about.

The tank disappeared down the road, and it seemed as if the soldiers had given up hope of finding any survivors. The medic had lost a brief battle for life with a wounded soldier across the checkpoint. The soldier's dying screams had disillusioned the soldiers' hopes of saving anyone.

One of the soldiers held a radio to his ear and began barking orders. The soldiers took off running down the road after the tank. Did they somehow know Gordon was in it? Calhoun followed the soldiers, staying far enough back as to avoid detection. Fortunately for Gordon, the tank drove much faster than the soldiers could run. If they knew Gordon was in there, Gordon would have a head start before they could get the word out.

Inside the tank, things were tense. Gordon had held the tank driver at gunpoint, ordering the crew to take him to the garage where they were holding Gina and Colette. If they resisted, Gordon would start shooting. The crew had firearms, but knew they would do little good against Gordon's hazard suit. They nervously acquiesced, and for now Gordon had been promoted to tank commander.

The tank drove down the road without incident. They passed many more soldiers along the way, and Gordon hoped none of them got suspicious about the blood splattered on the hatch above the tank. Most of them seemed to be concentrating on the road towards the checkpoint, ready to defend themselves from Gordon's inevitable attack. None of them seemed to suspect that he would be able to commandeer a tank and bypass their security directly.

They arrived at the garage without incident. When asked how to proceed, Gordon told the driver to park near the garage's ventilation duct access on the far side of the building. They wouldn't expect Gordon to get past their lines of security without being detected, so the ducts would be lightly guarded. Gordon would be able to sneak into the garage without having to fire a shot. With luck, he could free Gina and Colette and get them back to the tank without having to take a single life. Gordon held out hope that this was possible. He had seen enough killing for one day. He had seen enough for an entire lifetime.

Gordon waited until the coast was clear before popping the tank's hatch and racing towards the ventilation ducts. He crawled in and through the duct several meters before it angled upwards to rise above the garage. Gordon wasn't sure how he would be able to get down to the ground level without arousing attention, but he would cross that bridge when he came to it. Gordon moved as silently as he was able to through the narrow duct. He was sure he was directly above the garage floor now. He listened for any sign of what was going on in there. He crawled several more meters and listened again. Surely he should be able to hear _something_.

Gordon crawled one more meter, and that would be his last. The duct collapsed, deliberately weakened to set a trap for any unwary duct explorers. Gordon fell two stories and hit the ground hard. His suit insulated him from the impact, but it could not insulate him from the EMP field surrounding the center of the garage. Gordon was unable to lift himself off the ground where he lay. The EMP field had completely disabled his suit, much like the NEMP rifles and the EMP trap had previously. However, this was not a single jolt of EMP. The field pulsated endlessly. As long as Gordon was in the range of the EMP field, he would be unable to move, unable to defend himself, and unable to do anything to help Gina or Colette.

Much to Gordon's surprise, he was greeted by a familiar voice.

"Welcome to the party, Gordon," Gina said, soberly.

"The communicators are still working?" Gordon asked, surprised.

"Yes, they always were," Colette explained. "The same device generating the EMP field also dampens our communication. Now that you're here, I guess you can finally hear our warnings to stay as far away from this place as you can."

"I'm afraid it won't do us much good now," Gordon sighed.

Gordon could not turn his head to look at the figure approaching. He could only see a pair of legs with dress uniform, complete with immaculately polished black shoes. Gordon had little doubt as to who had come to greet him.

"I'm glad you could join us, Gordon." Major General Thompson gloated above him. "Now which one of you tin cans should I crack first?"

The General laughed, sending chills up the scientists' spines. They had little doubt what would happen to them once they were out of the protection of their suits. They would die here in this garage.


	10. Foxtrot Uniform

**Black Mesa**

**By Patrick Williams**

Based on the storyline from Half-Life, a game from Valve Software and Sierra Studios. The Half-Life franchise is the property of Sierra Studios. All rights are reserved to Sierra Studios.

**Chapter 10 – Foxtrot Uniform**

**Motorpool Garage**

Major General Thompson stood triumphant over the three scientists. They were finally in his grasp, and there would be no escape this time. The EMP field would prevent their suits from restoring power. They weren't going anywhere. _If you want something done right, you have to do it yourself_, Thompson had always believed.

Thompson left the three scientists where they lay, still protected within their hazard suits. Not for very much longer, though. Thompson walked across the garage to speak with his staff.

"Has the shipment arrived from Washington?"

"Yes, sir," one of his aides replied. "The machine was parachuted in a few minutes ago, and they're bringing it here by truck. It'll be here in a matter of minutes."

"Outstanding. When the truck arrives, gather the troops and assemble them here. I want them all to see just how vulnerable these scientists really are once we remove them from their all-powerful hazard suits. They could use the morale boost."

Across the garage, the three scientists heard every word through their aural sensors. The conversation was amplified within their helmets as if the group had been speaking directly beside them.

Thompson called to them from across the room, not knowing he need not shout to be heard. "I have good news! My package has arrived and will be here shortly. You see, until now the only machine capable of removing those hazard suits of yours has been buried deep underground in Sector C. That sector collapsed in on itself a few hours ago, and trying to retrieve anything from down there would be an exercise in futility. Fortunately for us, more such machines exist. In a few minutes time, we'll have you out of those uncomfortable hazard suits. Then we can have a little discussion face to face. No more bulletproof armor, no more amplified strength, no more amplified speed. Just you, me, and the comrades of the soldiers you've been murdering."

The thought brought fear into the hearts of the three scientists, able to do nothing now but wait.

Outside the garage, the sun was setting on the darkest day in Barney Calhoun's life. The sun hung low on the edge of the horizon, sending long shadows across the grounds around the garage where Gina and Colette were being held. Calhoun hadn't heard from Gordon since losing him back at the checkpoint, and he was most likely in the hands of the military again.

The garage was defended like a fortress, with tanks coming and going and helicopters orbiting overhead. Automated turrets had been set up to assist the dozens of soldiers manning sandbagged bunkers throughout the area. Several 50 caliber machine guns on tripods were scattered about, as were a few stationary rocket launchers. Calhoun spotted several laser trip mines along some of the more obscure entrances to the grounds. The entire area was lit with powerful portable spot lights brought in to make sure nothing could sneak in under the cover of darkness that was fast approaching.

The military sure knew how to dole out firepower, Barney Calhoun had to admit. He approached the garage, trying to act as naturally as he could under the circumstances. If he showed any signs of being out of place, the hardened soldiers around him wouldn't hesitate to pounce on him in an instant.

Thus far no one had questioned him. He had passed through several checkpoints unchallenged on his trek towards the garage. They must have assumed he was part of the unit he had been tailing, jogging a little slower than the rest. The fact that they were waiting for someone in a hazard suit had caused them to lower their guard just enough for him to sneak past without arousing any suspicion.

More than once along his journey, Calhoun had considered hopping into a Humvee and leaving Black Mesa again. He had quickly dismissed the notion, however. He had stayed here to save Gordon, Gina, and Colette, and if he abandoned them now he would have risked his life for nothing.

Calhoun walked across the roadway towards the entrance to the garage.

"You! Stop where you are!" a soldier called out in front of him. The soldier was manning one of the machine guns. He hadn't yet pointed it at Calhoun, but it would only take a split second to do so and open fire.

"No unauthorized personnel allowed inside the garage whatsoever. General's orders," the soldier explained.

Calhoun relaxed, relieved to learn he wasn't about to be turned into swiss cheese. He shrugged, acting nonchalant, and veered away from the entrance, trying not to let his relief show through. He began walking around the building, looking for a way to sneak in unnoticed. The place was very well defended and he would have to tread carefully.

"Wait! Stop!" the soldier called again, holding his hand to his earpiece.

Calhoun froze in his tracks. He turned around slowly and noticed that the soldier was pointing the machine gun in his direction now. _So, this is it_, Calhoun mused. The situation was nearly identical to what had happened in the bio labs. They had been so close to getting past the soldiers unnoticed when HQ had called the soldiers and blown their cover. Calhoun still wondered how they had known. The military always seemed to know what they were going to do before they did it. It seemed to be happening again, only this time Gordon was nowhere to be found to come to his rescue. Quite the reverse was true.

The soldier continued listening to his earpiece for a few moments, then returned his attention to Calhoun. "We've got new orders from the General. They want all of us inside on the double. Come on, let's go!"

Calhoun could not believe his luck. They were inviting him inside. Whatever was going on in there, it was important enough for the soldiers to let down their guard to see it. Calhoun joined the group of soldiers crowding into the garage.

The garage was already crammed full of soldiers eager to see the impending spectacle. They all wanted a piece of Freeman as soon as the hazard suit was peeled away from his scrawny body. Most of the soldiers had lost friends to these murderers, and it was time to inflict some corporal punishment.

Major General Thompson's aides did what they could to keep the soldiers at bay. The General was whipping them into a frenzy with a flagrant speech about how badly Gordon Freeman had hurt them. He blamed Freeman for initiating the disaster they had been called in to clean up, and he told them exaggerated tales of Freeman leading the uprising that had killed so many of their fellow soldiers in Sector E. He used Freeman simultaneously as a target for the soldiers to vent their frustrations upon and to give them hope that their plans may yet succeed thanks to their newly acquired hazard suits. Thompson was normally a stickler for discipline, but right now he needed his soldiers to become fired up and motivated to fight their way across the surface towards the Lambda Complex.

As if on cue, a truck slowly backed into the garage through one of its large bay doors. The soldiers present knew what this truck brought with it and cheered as the large wooden box on the back of the truck fell open to reveal the machine.

From his stiff position on the ground, Gordon could not see what they were cheering for, but he could guess what it was. It was an H.E.V. storage unit, designed to equip and remove their hazard suits. Gordon desperately tried to squirm away, but his suit held him down.

An engineer carried a heavy-duty extension cord from the far side of the garage and plugged the device in. It emitted a steady humming, announcing its readiness to send Gordon, Gina, and Colette to their doom.

Several of the soldiers lifted Gordon off of the ground and passed him across the garage like a body surfing singer at a rock concert. Gordon knew his time was about to run up. The device would remove his hazard suit in a matter of seconds and then he would be killed, either by the mass of soldiers or by the General himself.

Calhoun watched the display from the back of the room, completely at a loss. There had to be at least three dozen soldiers in the room, all of them armed to the teeth. He might get a few shots off, but he would be taken down before he could do much of anything to save Gordon. If he could find the device that was disabling the hazard suits, he might be able to give them a chance to restore power. But a similar device had disabled Gordon's suit for over an hour before it had restored itself. An hour from now, the three scientists would be out of those hazard suits and probably dead at the hands of the soldiers. Any way Calhoun looked at it, the situation was hopeless. He had gotten here too late to make a difference. Gordon, Gina, and Colette were lost.

Calhoun cursed to himself. He had been a fool to come back. His noble attempt to save them had been utterly worthless. What had he thought he would be able to do? Did he think he would have been regarded as a hero for saving them? For the past few hours Calhoun had followed the path of a hero, and Calhoun realized now that that path only led to his own destruction. He was no hero. He was just one man trying to survive in a dangerous situation. He should have gone with Rosenberg and left this place behind. Calhoun had already risked his life many times today, and all he had accomplished was to delay the inevitable for his friends. To die trying to save his friends now would do nothing but further delay their executions. He did not have a problem risking his life if it would accomplish something, but to do so now would be suicide. If he died here now, it would be for nothing. His best course of action now would be to cut his losses and escape. Gordon, Gina, and Colette would have wanted it that way.

Calhoun slinked along the back of the garage towards the exit and continued trying to shirk the feeling of guilt that he was being a coward.

Gordon could feel himself being propped upright inside of the storage unit. Gordon had a fleeting thought of a man being tied down beneath the guillotines, and forced himself to swallow hard to avoid vomiting. He used every ounce of strength to fight against their efforts, but the hazard suit constricted any movement. Gordon stared out from his helmet at the angry mob of soldiers pushing towards the back of the truck. He was powerless to fight back as one of the techs approached the controls to activate the device. The soldiers began buzzing excitedly.

Gordon cringed, waiting for the tiny mechanical arms to reach from the unit and do their deadly deed. He closed his eyes reflexively, his life flashing before his eyes. He wished he could have amounted to something more before his death. Tears began to fall from his eyes as he prepared for the end.

Gordon opened his eyes when he realized the machine had stopped. He blinked reflexively, trying to clear his eyes. He couldn't see a thing. The entire room was bathed in darkness. It was completely dark outside, and no light came in through the windows.

Gordon peered around from within the helmet, still powerless to move. The garage's power had been cut. The garage doors had been locked shut, and panicked voices arose from every corner of the garage as the soldiers tried to figure out what was going on and how to escape. Over the fray, Gordon could hear the General trying to maintain order. Several of the soldiers activated flashlights built into their MP5s, but these did little to light the cavernous garage. All they accomplished was to ruin any chance of their vision adapting to the darkness.

In all the commotion, Gordon was probably the only one who noticed the tiny red lights appearing near the ceiling. Gordon immediately thought of a large radioactive spider hanging from the ceiling, staring down with menacing red eyes. Gordon wondered if it was a new creature from Xen, sent to crash their party and kill them all. He could do nothing but watch and wait to see if his suspicions were correct.

Gordon soon realized the lights were wholly independent of each other, and they seemed to belong to several different creatures collecting near the ceiling. They hung there in mid air, waiting to strike. Gordon held his breath as if it would keep him invisible to their ominous red stare. He hoped against hope that his immobile state would keep him out of harm's way when they attacked.

The strike came swiftly and without notice. Dozens of muted retorts announced the firing of several silenced pistols. Soldiers on the ground screamed in pain, frustration, and utter confusion as they were impacted on all sides by silent projectiles. A few of the soldiers realized what was happening and began firing their weapons blindly at the ceiling. Gordon doubted they hit anything before being cut down themselves.

In a matter of seconds, the room was silent, save for the groaning of the dying soldiers littering the ground. Gordon was more terrified than ever before as the red eyes slowly descended from the ceiling. They reached ground level and fanned out. From the silhouette created by the flashlight on a dropped MP5, Gordon saw that the attackers were indeed human. Gordon couldn't see much else before the silhouetted figure disappeared back into the shadows.

A buzzing announced that emergency power had been activated. The room was bathed in the eerie red glow from the emergency lights. Gordon could see that the attackers were dressed in black jumpsuits and body armor and had come very well armed. They wore black ski masks over their faces, and their night vision goggles had no doubt allowed them to see their unsuspecting prey through the darkness.

With the emergency power activated, the black ops commandos could remove their night vision goggles. Now that they had lost the element of surprise, they would need to be able to react quickly to any unseen threats. The goggles allowed them to see in the dark, but severely limited their field of vision like horse blinders. They were willing to sacrifice their cover in order to gain the extra peripheral vision.

The commandos swept through the room, taking up guard positions around its edges. They had been very thorough, and the only sign of life came from Major General Thompson, who had fallen down against the incapacitated forms of Gina and Colette. He had been shot in the chest, and was bleeding heavily. Like the two hazard suits he now leaned against, Thompson was not going anywhere.

A great ball of electricity appeared in the center of the garage, directly in front of Thompson. For a moment, the room was lit by the brilliant luminescence of the portal. Thompson tried to squirm away, but the effort shot lightning bolts of pain through his chest and back. Thompson had no idea what was happening, but he was powerless to stop it.

A figure emerged from the portal, dressed in a slick gray suit with a matching briefcase.

"_You?!_ What do you think you're doing?" Thompson gasped.

"Hello, Mister Thompson," the man in the suit hissed. "I'm afraid your usefulness to our cause has come to an end. It is time for your… replacements to step in. I see you've been already been introduced. My, my, that looks like a _nasty _wound. I'd say the bullet punctured a lung and ruptured your stomach. You don't have much time left, I'm afraid, Mister Thompson. Fortunately, you and your men are no longer required here. We have… other means of achieving our goals now. My commandos don't take too kindly to competition. Your soldiers don't stand a chance against them. Order your men to pull out before it is too late."

The administrator handed Thompson a satellite phone, who took it reluctantly.

"What guarantees do I have that you won't shoot down my men once they're in the air?" the General demanded.

"Your men will all sign non-disclosure agreements upon arrival at Santego," the administrator replied, not truly addressing the question. "Your men have nothing more to fear so long as they sign on the dotted line. Even if they do talk, no one will believe such a ridiculous story."

Thompson didn't have a choice in the matter.

"This is Thompson calling HQ… over."

"HQ here, sir. We read you five by five, over."

"Execute 'Foxtrot Uniform.' Do you read me?"

"F-foxtrot uniform, sir? Uh, roger that, executing 'Foxtrot Uniform' by your command, sir."

The administrator replaced the phone in its pocket within his suit.

"You have disappointed me, Mister Thompson. You committed many fatal errors today. You wasted far too much time and far too many lives capturing these hazard suits. Were you one of my Commanders, I would have shot you myself. We have no place in our organization for such failure. As you can see, we are tying up every loose end, and you know far too much to be allowed to ever leave this place."

Thompson glared up at the administrator, saying more with his eyes than he possibly could with his voice.

The administrator spoke with one of the commandos for a moment before turning back to face the General.

"I'm afraid no one will ever know of the sacrifices made by you and your men today. There will be nothing left of this facility when my commandos are done with it. Commander Dekker, show the good General what I'm referring to."

Several of the commandos wheeled in a cart with an ominous cone-shaped device onboard.

"You see, Mister Thompson," the administrator continued. "There will be nothing left of Black Mesa after this warhead goes off. We must be leaving you now. Goodbye, Mister Thompson."

The administrator turned to leave. Thompson saw his opening and reached down to retrieve his pistol from its holster. As he brought it around to fire, one of the commandos beat him to it. The gun flew out of Thompson's hands, hit by a perfectly fired bullet from a black ops sharpshooter.

"No regrets, Mister Thompson," the administrator said without turning as he stepped into the portal before him. His commandos disappeared into the shadows around the edges of the garage, taking their warhead with them.

Thompson felt very alone, as the only other survivors were silently trapped inside of their hazard suits.

Barney Calhoun raced back towards the garage. He had been nearly a mile away when he had looked back to say a final goodbye to his friends in the garage. He had quickly noticed that the building had disappeared in darkness, a shadow within an otherwise well lit campus. Clearly something unexpected was happening in the garage. Calhoun felt a rush of guilt for abandoning his friends so easily. As had happened several times today, he was now being given an opportunity to rise to the occasion and become a hero, and once again he had almost blown it. He could no longer justify saving his own skin. If there was any chance of saving his friends without wasting his own life, he would have to take it. He hoped he would not be remembered as what he felt like; a coward. He hoped he was not too late.

As Barney reached the garage, two flatbed trucks pulled into the area, blinding him with their headlights. He stood like a startled deer in headlights, caught completely off guard.

Several figures hopped off the back, weapons drawn. Barney hoped they were friendly. He would find out soon enough.

The distinct sound of new vehicles arriving outside had startled Gordon. His suit had been charging since the power went out since the EMP generator had been knocked out with the rest of the power. However, his suit was still far from restoring full functionality when the vehicles arrived. Gordon was could not defend himself from whatever new challenges awaited. Most of the people they had come across today had been bent on killing them, and Gordon was far too cynical to hope that any newcomers would be friendly.

One of the garage bay doors began to rise and several soldiers rushed in. Despite the dim red darkness, it was hard to mistake the urban camouflage the soldiers wore, clearly not the black camouflage of the commandos. Gordon didn't know whether to be relieved or frightened. Clearly, there was much more going on at Black Mesa than they had realized. It seemed that, in the midst of an alien invasion, man's greatest enemy was, as had always been the case, his fellow man.

One of the newcomers was a medic, who rushed immediately to the General's side.

"Easy now, sir. Let me take a look at that wound…" the medic said soothingly as he inspected Thompson's gut. The medic could tell instantly that the prognosis would not be good. "You're going to be just fine, sir," the medic said reassuringly, both of them knowing every word was a lie.

"Don't bullshit me, son. I know I'm already dead. Get me your commander."

"Yes, sir," the medic replied. "Corporal, over here!"

Corporal Adrian Shephard approached at Jones' summoning.

"Corporal…" the General gasped. "I need you to do something for me. I've already ordered a full-scale evacuation. I'm giving you one final objective before you pull out. You've got to stop those bastards from delivering that nuke. People need to see what happened here. The people need to know about the conspiracy that took place here. That nuke will erase any physical evidence that we were ever here. I don't want our men to have died in vain. Promise me you won't stop until you've disarmed that nuke, Corporal. Promise me…"

"Yes, sir," Shephard replied soberly. It was a very tall order, but it was the dying wish of his commanding officer. What choice did he have?

Jones could do little more than give him painkillers to ease the process. Shephard didn't leave the General's side until the end.

In the mean time, the rest of Shephard's group had wandered in to see what was taking them so long. They were clearly stunned by the carnage. There was little doubt now that the black ops commandos they had been following weren't friends of the Army or anyone else.

Barney stood with the rest of the security team, guarding the exterior of the garage. He no longer wore his BDU. He once again wore his true colors; the black and blue Black Mesa Security uniform.

Through the glare of the headlights, Calhoun had noticed that the figures onboard the trucks had been wearing Black Mesa Security uniforms. He had taken a chance and told them the truth; that he wasn't really a soldier. He told them he was with the security team, and he had been using the BDU as additional protection, which wasn't too far from the truth. It was only then that Calhoun had realized that not all of the figures were on the security team. Mixed throughout the group were several soldiers from the Army. Calhoun had been startled to see Black Mesa Security and Army soldiers working together, but had found out much from his fellow guards in the past few minutes. Apparently these soldiers hadn't received their orders yet, and didn't know they were supposed to be murdering the scientists they were now protecting. It didn't bother Calhoun one bit to learn that not all of the soldiers here were bent on killing him.

Within his suit, Gordon saw that several of the newcomers wore the white lab coats of scientists. Were these soldiers escorting prisoners to be interrogated at their headquarters? Were they being rescued? Were they being brought here to be executed after they finished the job their former comrades had left for them? Gordon's mind whirled, but a face he recognized brought even more questions.

Dr. Eli Vance approached Shephard. "Corporal, what happened here?"

"A massacre," Shephard said soberly.

"Aside from the obvious, I mean. What was happening here?"

For the first time, Shephard began to take in the overall situation beyond the death of his comrades. The soldiers had been massacred, but for what end? He looked beyond the bodies and searched for some clue that could explain what had been going on here. He had noticed the two armored suits propped up next to the General, and now noticed a third armored suit strapped into a machine on the back of the truck. Shephard surmised, correctly, that the spectacle had revolved around that machine and the armored suit within.

"Whatever happened here, it revolved around _that_," Shephard said, pointing at the machine.

"Wait," Vance said, gazing at the machine and its occupant. "It can't be! Gordon Freeman!"

Vance rushed towards the machine. Surely enough, the armored suit was a hazard suit, and the machine was an H.E.V. storage unit. Vance did not doubt for an instant that Freeman was trapped inside. He had no idea why or how the hazard suits had been disabled, but they would find out soon enough.

"I need power!" Vance shouted, as he began working several dials on the surface of the H.E.V. storage unit.

"Jackson!" Shephard called out to his engineer.

Jackson disappeared into a back hallway of the garage. Moments later, the lights came back on, announcing that Jackson had found the circuit breaker.

With the power was restored, the H.E.V. storage unit was now fully functional. Dr. Vance continued working the controls of the machine. Rather than strip Gordon's suit off, it now flooded it with energy. In a matter of seconds, Gordon's functionality was fully restored.

Gordon stepped down from the truck, eager to get away from the machine. Chavez and Tower began dragging the other two hazard suits into the device to restore their power as they interrogated Gordon.

"What happened here?" Vance demanded, Shephard close behind him, every bit as curious as Vance.

"We were ambushed by those commandos," Gordon explained. "The soldiers here didn't stand a chance."

Vance noticed that Gordon had left out the details of what the soldiers had been doing before the ambush. Gordon was testing Shephard to see what he knew.

Shephard pressed Gordon for more information. "But what was going on here before the ambush? Who are you and why were you strapped into that machine?"

Gordon paused a moment before responding. "My name is Gordon Freeman. I'm with the security team here at Black Mesa. We were using these hazard suits to assist the soldiers in the defense of the facility. Our suits ran out of power while we were battling the aliens. We were lucky enough to be found by these soldiers. They were trying to restore our suits' power when the commandos ambushed us. There was nothing we could do to help."

It was a carefully crafted and calculated lie that would act as a litmus test. All of the soldiers they had encountered thus far had known about Gordon and his role here at Black Mesa. They had known he was killing their buddies and they all wanted him dead. But this Corporal didn't seem to know who he was. What else did he not know? Did he not know the soldiers had been sent here to exterminate them all?

Shephard nodded, seeming to accept the explanation.

"Now let me ask you something, Corporal," Gordon spoke to Shephard, "What are you doing with these scientists?"

"We were taking them to the nearest safe checkpoint. I'm not sure what we're going to do with them now. The soldiers are pulling out, and there's no safe place left to go."

"I know of one," Gordon replied. "There is one last safe haven here in Black Mesa. I know you have your orders to chase after those commandos, but the three of us can take them there. You'll be safe with us, Dr. Vance. And don't worry, I won't say I told you so."

"Very well," Shephard spoke, clueless as to the meaning of the inside comment. "If you don't mind, Dr. Vance, we'll be leaving now. The trail of the commandos is already getting cold."

"By all means, Corporal. You've done an admirable job taking us this far. I hope you can accomplish your mission and get yourselves out of here in one piece."

"Squad!" Shephard shouted at his team. "Let's get a move on. Those commandos aren't going to stop and wait for us to catch up!"

The soldiers hurriedly left the garage, without so much as a goodbye for the scientists they had escorted across the campus. They hopped into one of their trucks and peeled off down the road.

"What really happened here?" Vance asked, after they were gone.

"Those soldiers were trying to kill us," Gordon said, matter-of-factly. "They were using that machine to strip our hazard suits off, and they would have killed us if the black ops commandos hadn't intervened. We were luckier than most of our friends."

"Are you saying—"

"Yes, the soldiers were actually sent here to silence the science team. There were only two pockets of scientists left by the time we reached the surface, and they never found out about yours. The other resistance is based in the Lambda Complex. We can take you and your group there."

They continued discussing the day's events. Since first encountering the black ops commandos in the warehouse, Shephard's team had brought the group across the campus after them. The commandos had commandeered a military truck from the truck yard outside the warehouse to travel across the campus. The group had borrowed two trucks of their own and followed the trail left by the commandos. The trail had led quite plainly to this garage, but by the time they had arrived the commandos had already come, done their dirty deeds, and gone.

By this time, Gina and Colette had restored power and joined in the discussion. The group of scientists finally came to an agreement that they should collectively go to the Lambda Complex as soon as possible. Since Shephard's team had taken one of their trucks, they would commandeer the Army's truck to take its place.

They hopped back into the trucks, eager to get away from the tomb within the garage. They set off across the campus for the Lambda Complex.

As the caravan drove, they were constantly on guard for an ambush. The trucks were open flatbeds, and everyone felt a bit overexposed. They were grateful that the facility was so well lit. They were still wary every time they drove around a corner, ready for anything.

Several times along their journey they came across a few alien stragglers, but they encountered no organized resistance. It seemed that the aliens were concentrating their forces elsewhere in the facility, which didn't bother the group one bit.

After several tense minutes of driving, the Lambda Complex came into sight. Its nuclear reactor core towers rose high above the horizon, a well-lit beacon in the night. It was a beautiful sight, and Gordon felt a bit like Moses looking out from Mount Nebo over the Promised Land. Gordon's analogy was apt, but he realized that Moses had died within sight of his goal. Gordon nervously realized that now would be the perfect time to ambush the group.

As the group looked out at the Lambda Complex reactors, the ground around them began to vibrate. Their first thought was that it was an earthquake, but there were no major fault lines near Black Mesa. This felt much stronger, and it was still increasing in strength.

The trucks pulled to the side of the road, wary of the unsteady ground. Everyone was beginning to panic, and no one knew what was going on.

As the vibration climaxed, its cause was revealed. The ground behind the caravan erupted in a tower of flame, and for a moment the facility around them was bright as day. A tremendous figure emerged from the towering inferno.

"My God," Vance exhaled, "It's a Gargantua!"

Gordon now had a name to go with a monster they had encountered before. It must have burned its way through the ground all the way from Sector E deep below the surface.

The last time they had gone up against the Gargantua, it had helped them get past an angry mob of soldiers. This time it would be after them.


	11. Forget About Freeman

**Black Mesa**

**By Patrick Williams**

Based on the storyline from Half-Life, a game from Valve Software and Sierra Studios. The Half-Life franchise is the property of Sierra Studios. All rights are reserved to Sierra Studios.

**Chapter 11 – Forget About Freeman**

**Black Mesa Central Command**

The moment Thompson had gone off on his fool's errand, Dr. Breen had reclaimed possession of his chair and desk. Unfortunately, he only had what seemed like minutes to enjoy it before the "Foxtrot Uniform" call came through, and they were forced to hastily evacuate. In the rush to leave, Breen was bodily grabbed from his chair and practically dragged out of the office. Breen didn't object. _Finally_, he thought, _we're getting the hell out of here!_

Central Command erupted with gunfire as the soldiers wiped the computers of all classified information by filling the hard drives with bullets. On their way out, an officer picked up the all-frequency radio and broadcasted one final message before signing off the air. "Forget about Freeman! We are cutting our losses and pulling out. Anyone left down there now is on their own. Repeat, if you weren't already, you are now…"

The order relayed through the command structure like wildfire. Nobody was sure as to why it had been given, but they all understood its significance. "Foxtrot Uniform" was the general fall back code, and their instructions were clear. They were to head to their LZs, board their choppers, and get the hell out of there ASAP.

The V-22 Ospreys filled themselves beyond capacity to evacuate the survivors in one trip. There would be no return trip – the fall back code was clear on that. Those unfortunate enough to be stuck underground would have to find their own way out of Black Mesa.

The helicopters joined together in a loose formation as they raced away from the facility. The F-35s orbited the formation to protect it from any airborne ambushes. Once the Ospreys were clear of Black Mesa, the F-35s returned to a holding pattern several miles outside the edges of Black Mesa airspace. Their orders were to contain any alien vessels trying to leave Black Mesa, but otherwise they were not to interfere with anything happening at the facility.

Had the AWACS not been destroyed, its crew might have thought it strange that an equal number of helicopters were approaching the facility from the opposite direction. Upon further inspection, it would have discovered the newcomers were arriving in black helicopters with no markings of any kind. But the AWACS was long gone, and there was no one around to notice the arrival of the next wave of black ops commandos.

**Lambda Complex Entrance**

The Gargantua shook the dirt off of its heavy metallic skin as it rose to its full two-story height. For a moment, it didn't notice the two trucks full of scientists and security guards. Everyone held their breath, hoping it would pay them no mind. They would not be so lucky.

The creature roared as it spotted the two trucks before it. It swung its bazooka-like arms around to face the group of trucks.

"Drive!" Gordon shouted.

The two trucks peeled out, racing down the road towards the Lambda Complex. The Gargantua rumbled after them.

As the trucks squealed down the road, anyone with a weapon opened fire in a desperate attempt to slow the beast down. Their bullets ricocheted harmlessly off of its armored skin. It fired flame bursts after them, which fell short of the trucks but still got too close for comfort.

The drivers pushed the diesel engines to their limits, but the Gargantua was still gaining ground on the caravan. They rounded one final corner and the subterranean entrance to the Lambda Complex came within sight. If they could get into the entrance tunnel, the Gargantua would be unable to follow them down. It would be too large to squeeze through.

The trucks hauled themselves across the clearing towards the tunnel. The Gargantua seemed to realize what they were trying to do, and began pursuing them even faster. No one aboard the trucks truly believed they would make it in time, but the trucks flew into the tunnel at the last possible instant. The Gargantua roared in fury as it realized that it was too large to follow them down.

However, much to the dismay of the scientists and security guards, the tunnel was only a few dozen meters deep. It ended in a large metal gate that looked too powerful to break through. They hoped against hope that someone had remained behind to open the door for them.

The Gargantua seemed to realize their predicament and fired its flame throwers into the narrow tunnel. The rear truck caught fire, threatening to explode if the fire spread to its fuel tank. There was no escape from this tunnel, and if the Gargantua's flame bursts didn't kill them, the explosions from the trucks would.

The Gargantua began kicking the ground, sending massive shock waves through the tunnel. Pieces of the tunnel fell from the ceiling, threatening to collapse if the vibration continued.

"Everyone down!" a voice reverberated through the tunnel, coming from a speaker above them. They all quickly obeyed, not sure what to expect.

A tiny loophole opened in the metal gate, and a red beam erupted towards the Gargantua. The Gargantua stopped in its tracks and began roaring in fury. The laser worked its way across the Gargantua's exoskeleton, performing exploratory surgery throughout its body.

Gordon glanced up from his position on the ground in time to see the Gargantua collapse to the ground, sliced to pieces. Its blood trickled down the tunnel towards the group as they slowly rose, still expecting to die at any moment.

The voice returned. "If you want to live, you'll answer my questions quickly and poignantly. Who is in those hazard suits?"

Gordon spoke up, "I'm Gordon Freeman, and those two are Gina Cross and Colette Green."

"Or perhaps you're actually soldiers in disguise, holding this group hostage to maintain your illusion. Perhaps you've come here to root out the last pocket of scientists, hoping to play on our hopes that you are who you say you are. I've read the _Illiad_, my friend. We are not going to let you come in until you prove you are not a Trojan horse in disguise. If you truly are Gordon Freeman, you will know who I am by the sound of my voice. I won't open this gate until you can identify me. And don't try anything; this laser will make short work of even your armor."

Gordon did recognize the voice, and strained his memory to make the connection. Gordon smiled as he realized who he was speaking to.

"Dr. Kleiner, it's been a long time," Gordon spoke.

Kleiner had been one of Gordon's professors during his time at M.I.T. They had both left M.I.T. since Gordon's graduation, and had not made contact with each other for several years. Gordon had been working as a visiting fellow at the University of Innsbruck in Austria when Kleiner had contacted him with an offer for employment. Kleiner had taken a job at Black Mesa after leaving M.I.T. and risen quickly though its ranks. He introduced Gordon to the Civilian Recruitment division of Black Mesa, and had been a deciding factor in the facility's decision to hire him.

"Gordon Freeman! It really is you!" Kleiner replied, clearly relieved.

The thick gate opened, and Kleiner stood there waiting for them. He rushed forward to greet Gordon. Gina, Colette, and Vance approached to hear their conversation.

"I'm sorry, Gordon. I couldn't risk opening that gate until I was sure you were who you said you were. We've been tracking your group's progress across the facility, but we lost contact with Gina and Colette in the garage, and you too shortly thereafter. We couldn't be sure if they had gotten to you or not. I'm glad to see you three alive and well."

"It's good to see you too, Dr. Kleiner. If you hadn't been here, we would have been toast by now."

"I volunteered to wait at the gate for you, to verify your identity and personally welcome you. My colleagues are waiting for us down in the teleportation labs."

"Teleportation labs?" Gordon realized the man in the suit he had seen in the garage was probably using teleportation technology developed here at Black Mesa. Did that mean the black ops commandos were actually part of the facility's staff? Was this the conspiracy that the General had mentioned?

"Yes, one of many projects you're not authorized to know about, but judging from what you've gone through today you already know a great deal more than any one man is supposed to. Come on, let's get moving. Time is of the essence."

The group moved through the gate and Kleiner closed it after them. He didn't want any unexpected visitors crashing their party.

The group crowded onto a large inclinator that led down into the heart of the Lambda Complex. As they traveled, Kleiner explained that they were using their teleportation technology to create inverse teleporter waves to counteract any incoming teleportation. Nothing would be able to teleport into the Lambda Complex as long as they had power to run the machine.

The inclinator arrived at the bottom of the shaft and the group entered the teleportation labs. They were greeted by several scientists who had been following their progress with great interest. All of the scientists were superior to Gordon, Gina, Colette, and Vance both in terms of seniority and experience, yet they treated the newcomers as if they were heroes returning home to a tickertape parade. Everyone they met treated them with respect and reverence.

Kleiner continued his explanation. "We've been eagerly awaiting your arrival. You see, there is a matter here of which you can be of some assistance. It's becoming clear that our military does not have what it takes to defeat these aliens. At best they can hold them at bay, but as long as we are on defense we are destined to lose. These black ops troopers seem to be holding their own, but if it comes down to a battle of numbers, we are outnumbered almost infinitesimally. It is only a matter of time until they win."

"And how do we play into this?" Gordon asked.

"We've been getting our equipment ready for creating a portal to the alien homeworld of Xen. We want to take the fight to _them_. These alien invaders are under the power of a tremendously powerful being on the other side, known as the Nihilanth. We suspect the Nihilanth controls its army through a large portal, created through the immense concentration of the being. You'll know it when you see it. I hate to say this, but you three must kill it, if you can."

Kleiner paused a moment, and the weight of the statement sunk in for everyone present. Gordon, Gina, and Colette were being asked to save the world, and take on a being powerful enough to subjugate and control entire planets. And if they did not succeed, everyone they knew would share the fate of the friends they had already lost today.

Kleiner continued, "My colleagues are waiting for us down in the teleportation chamber. Of course you owe us nothing. But you've come this far. You know about as much about these creatures as anyone, and no one is better equipped to take them on."

Gordon, Gina, and Colette had a quick discussion over their communicators. The fate of the world might rest in their hands, and they had no choice. They agreed to go.

"All right, Dr. Kleiner," Gordon spoke. "We're in."

"Excellent! Come now, let's get you to the chamber…"

"Wait, Gordon—" a voice interrupted from behind them. It was Barney Calhoun.

"What is it, Barney?" Gordon asked. He hadn't spoken with Barney since he had hitched a ride to the garage on the tank, and he had a good idea what Barney wanted to discuss.

"Look, Gordon. I'm sorry I wasn't there for you in the garage. I wanted to help—"

"Barney, there isn't time for this. You've saved me several times today, and I owe you my life. I'm sure you did everything you could. If that's all you wanted to discuss, we really need to get going…"

"I want to go with you," Calhoun blurted out.

Everyone within earshot turned at that statement.

"Look," Calhoun explained. "I've already been there once. I doubt anyone else here has been there and lived to tell about it. I can help you!"

"How did you get to Xen?" Kleiner demanded.

"Dr. Rosenberg sent me there to activate the beacon—"

"My God, man! That was _you_?" Kleiner asked, incredulous. "I thought it was the black ops troopers…"

Calhoun continued, "I might have saved you a few times today, Gordon, but deep down I've felt like a coward ever since the disaster."

"Barney, everyone gets afraid sometimes," said Vance. "What separates a hero from a martyr is the common sense to know when to fight and when to fall back. If you had been there in the garage, you would have been killed along with everyone else. You don't have anything to prove."

"Thanks for the kind words, Dr. Vance, but I still want to go. I can help!"

"We could use your help here, too," Kleiner interjected. "Once we open the portal to Xen, our interference wave will collapse. We won't be able to block any incoming teleporters, and this area will shine out like a beacon to them. We've got plenty of next-generation weapons, but most of us aren't terribly adept at using them.

"You've got the other security guards that came with us," Calhoun replied.

"They're fine officers, but none of them have seen as much action as you have," Vance pointed out. "I'd feel much more comfortable with you here to watch our backs."

Calhoun finally gave in and agreed to stay behind. He would help guard the teleportation chamber with his fellow officers when the portal opened. Vance and the rest of the science team would find a safe place and stay under cover until the course was clear.

Kleiner offered them a few parting gifts.

"These are some weapons we've been developing here at the Lambda Complex. Gina, Colette; these are gauss guns," Kleiner explained as he handed over the weapons. "They're experimental lasers we've been developing that can penetrate any known form of armor. As you saw outside, they're very effective against even the largest foes."

"And this is a gluon gun," Kleiner said as he turned to Gordon. "This device emits a stream of energy capable of destroying anything in its path. We haven't found a substance yet that this weapon can't disintegrate. You'll all need this added firepower if you're going to take on the Nihilanth and survive."

Gordon tested the weight of the gluon gun in his hands, satisfied that they would stand a much better chance of success with their new equipment. They moved on to the teleportation chamber.

The chamber was large and hemispherical in shape, with a tremendous pit in the center. A walkway extended across the pit to give the scientists access to the portal when it opened. A metal tower to one side of the pit held the computers that controlled and guided the teleporter. The calculations for their journey to Xen had already been made and locked into place. All that remained was to power the device up and to open the portal.

"All right, I can open the portal now," Kleiner explained. "The process is complicated and once I begin I must not be interrupted or else I will have to start all over again. Don't enter the portal until I give the okay, understood?"

While Kleiner climbed to the control tower to begin the activation sequence, Barney and the rest of their security guard contingent arrayed themselves about the chamber, ready for anything once the portal opened. Gordon, Gina, and Colette stood on the walkway, waiting for the portal to open.

"Get ready, I'm beginning the sequence!"

The security guards raised their firearms as the gigantic portal appeared in the center of the pit, small at first but growing quickly. The expanding green ball of pure energy sent arcs of electricity throughout the chamber into several grounded rods built into the walls to prevent electrocution. The security guards instinctively ducked to avoid the bolts, but kept their weapons held ready.

**Xen**

The Nihilanth roared in fury as the portal opened. These humans were proving to be most annoying. For the last few hours, the humans had been opening and closing tiny portals around his compound, too small and too infrequent to track down their exact locations. They were like flies buzzing around the Nihilanth's head, and as much as it swatted at them it could not kill them. The Nihilanth, despite its massive brain power, could not discern what they were up to. They were much too far and few between to take on its forces and win. Once the invaders arrived, they scattered into the mountainous floating islands around the area and went into hiding. His controllers were scouring the area for them, but had thus far turned up nothing.

But now a much larger portal had opened, and there was finally an exact location to target. The Nihilanth began sending controllers to intercept the travelers before they could become another thorn in his side.

**Lambda Complex – Teleportation Chamber**

All around the chamber, smaller portals began to open. Calhoun looked up to Kleiner at the controls to see any indication of if this was part of the process. Kleiner seemed preoccupied with the preparations to the main portal, however. Calhoun went with his gut reaction and raised his weapon to fire at whatever was coming to crash their party.

Several flying creatures emerged from the portals, almost humanoid in appearance aside from their oversized heads. Calhoun realized that these were the same creatures he had almost been killed by during his brief trip to Xen. Calhoun opened fire without a second thought.

Kleiner glanced up from the controls. "My God, they're sending Controllers." He did not have time to watch the battle, however, and went back to the controls before him. He had to work quickly lest the portal lose stability and collapse.

Everyone with a weapon was firing now, and bullets from the security guards' weapons mixed with the energy from the three scientists' laser weapons as they fired up at the controllers. The Controllers hovered around the room in circular patterns, their hands dancing about as they summoned up the mental power to unleash their attacks. As before, Calhoun could feel their hypnotic power rush over him, urging him to stand still. He knew not to listen, and resisted their power.

"Keep moving! Don't stand still!" Calhoun shouted at several of his comrades who had succumbed to the Controllers' influence and stopped in their tracks. They snapped out of it and resumed firing up at the flying aliens.

The Controllers unleashed their powerful attacks, their balls of energy raining down on the group. One of the security team took a hit and fell to the ground, shaking and smoking. A fellow guard rushed over to help but realized that his friend was already dead.

Calhoun fired his .357 Magnum, trying to find their weak point. He found it almost on accident, when a shot aimed at a Controller's face impacted its tremendous forehead instead. Much like a newborn baby, the flesh and bones surrounding their brains were quite weak, and Calhoun's bullets tore through them quite easily. The creature fell to the ground as its brain exploded out through the back of its head.

Gordon caught one of the Controllers with the beam of his gluon gun, and it combusted in mid air. Gina and Colette were having a difficult time hitting the Controllers with their gauss guns, as they were able to dodge their fire as if they knew where they were going to shoot before they did. Gordon glanced up at Kleiner and silently urged him to hurry.

"The portal is ready!" Kleiner shouted down from the tower. "You must go! Now!"

"What about these Controllers?" Gordon shouted back.

"Go!" Kleiner repeated.

Gordon, Gina, and Colette raced down the walkway towards the gaping portal before them. They leaped into the air and disappeared with a flash.

**Xen**

On the islands surrounding the Nihilanth's compound, the commandos lay in waiting for the signal to attack. It would not be long now.

The discovery of the aging yet still functional teleporter in Sector D had been a great blessing for their cause. Their original plan had called for them to use the large teleporter in the Lambda Complex to invade en masse in a blitzkrieg assault. Casualties would have been high as they would have arrived slowly, unable to gather their forces before being ambushed by the Nihilanth's forces. However, the smaller teleporter had given them the opportunity to sneak their forces in beneath the Nihilanth's nose, arraying them in an attack formation before their assault began. The teleporter had been much too small for their larger equipment and artillery, but they had been able to send a majority of their infantry forces in ahead of the rest of the invasion. Now they waited for their teams back on Earth to gain control of the teleporter in the Lambda Complex so they could send their tanks and artillery in and begin their attack.

Commander Dekker received notice from one of his engineers down the line that a large portal had opened; no doubt from the Lambda Complex. Three travelers had arrived just outside of their lines, fitting the description of three hazard suits from Black Mesa. The interference wave around the Lambda Complex had collapsed, and they were free to teleport in now.

Dekker ordered his men to back away from the hazard suits and give them a wide berth. He had enough on his hands with the upcoming invasion to worry about any surprises coming from behind them. He gave another order to several of his men, who prepared to travel back to Earth.

A portal opened in front of his team and they leaped in to make the journey to the Lambda Complex.

**Teleportation Chamber**

The chamber was littered with the bodies of controllers and humans alike. Calhoun, the remaining guards, and Dr. Kleiner had retreated to a position beneath the control tower, which gave them enough cover to fire up at the controllers with relative safety. However, they were effectively pinned down, and there was no end in sight to the battle. They considered retreat, but knew that the scientists hiding in the complex's command center were depending on them to stop the aliens here.

To make matters worse, a new portal opened before them. Calhoun prepared for the worst and aimed his weapon to face any new threats. Much to his surprise, a human emerged, followed by several more. They wore the black armor of the black ops commandos.

The commandos opened fire on the controllers immediately. Their assault rifles were far superior to the guards' pistols and shotguns. Although the controllers seemed to be able to foresee where they would shoot next, it was impossible for them to dodge all of the bullets from the rifles. It was a matter of seconds before the final controller fell to the ground, bleeding from its massive skull.

With the alien threat vanquished, the commandos turned their attention to the group huddled behind the control tower.

"Hold your fire!" their leader shouted as the commandos approached their position.

Calhoun nodded to his fellow guards, who lowered their weapons. However, no one truly trusted the commandos after witnessing the massacre at the garage.

As the commandos approached, the leader made a hand gesture at a side door of the chamber. One of the commandos ran through it on an errand of some kind.

The commandos halted a few meters from the tower. Their leader laid down his weapon and approached them unarmed, hands held away from his body. He clearly meant to speak with them.

Calhoun turned to his fellow guards. "Keep your weapons trained on the others. I'm going to go talk with this one."

Calhoun returned the gesture by laying down his pistol and approaching slowly with arms held out.

"My name is Dekker," the commando spoke first. "I am in command of these men." A trace of a Russian accent showed through in his speech. Calhoun distrusted the man immediately.

"I'm Barney Calhoun, security team. I'm glad you came when you did,"

"We don't have much time here," Dekker continued. "We require the use of your teleporter to send our equipment to Xen."

"Your equipment?" Calhoun asked, confused.

"Yes, we have several tanks and artillery support vehicles approaching this chamber as we speak. Our teams on Xen need them before they can begin their invasion."

"But what about—" Calhoun began to ask about Gordon, Gina, and Colette, but stopped himself when he realized the commandos might not know about their journey. He had almost given them away, which might have put them in great danger.

"Don't worry about your friends on Xen," Dekker replied, seeming to read Calhoun's mind. "We're all on the same side here. We want to beat these aliens as much as you do, and there's no reason for us not to trust each other."

Calhoun could think of plenty of reasons not to trust them, but held his tongue. Instead, he asked, "So what are you going to do with us?"

"We'll open a portal that will send you to a secure location outside of Black Mesa. Your battles here are over. We must get you out of here before they send another wave of controllers."

The chamber's door opened, and one of Dekker's commandos returned from his errand, followed by the rest of the science team that had been hiding in the command center. The commando approached Dekker and the two spoke quietly and briefly before the commando joined the rest of his comrades standing guard throughout the chamber.

Silently declaring their conversation over, Dekker gestured to the control tower. One of the commandos rushed towards the tower and swiftly climbed it. He reached the controls and began operating them. Everyone looked up as the portal formed over the walkway.

"It's time for you to go," Dekker said plainly as he turned back to the group.

Calhoun did not know whether or not to trust this Dekker, but knew they had no choice in the matter now. They were outmanned and outgunned, and this Dekker clearly held all the cards now. They would have to trust him.

They stepped onto the walkway and walked towards the portal. Calhoun volunteered to go first, ready to face whatever awaited them.

As Calhoun walked towards the portal, he caught a glimpse of a large door opening in the side of the chamber. Waiting behind the door were several large black tanks. As Calhoun disappeared into the portal, he had a fleeting thought that whatever was happening on Xen, it was about to become even crazier.

When the final scientist entered the portal, Dekker retrieved his radio. "This is Dekker to all units. We have secured the surviving science team. Consider yourselves free to fire at will from this point forward. Any remaining personnel are to be eliminated at once."

The commando units sounded off by the numbers, acknowledging the order.

**Black Mesa Surface**

Shephard's truck pulled to a halt. They were several minutes behind the black ops team they were tailing, and had thus far remained undiscovered. The commandos were taking a meandering route through the buildings of the Black Mesa campus, perhaps to lose any potential tails. Fortunately, Shephard and his team were well trained in the art of stealth, and their presence thus far remained undetected.

Shephard and his team dismounted their truck and gazed out at the tremendous hydroelectric dam before them. The mechanical grinding noises announced that the day's disasters had not affected its power production capabilities in the slightest. Shephard knew this would be the perfect place for a booby trap. Anyone following the black ops commandos would have to cross this narrow space to continue their pursuit. If he had been commanding the black ops team, he would have left a surprise behind to greet anyone foolish enough to stumble into it. Shephard ordered Chavez to sneak across the dam in search of any potential tricks or traps.

Chavez crouched and ran onto the dam. He moved quickly, sneaking between cover as he could find it. The dam was well illuminated, and shadows were hard to come by. Chavez stopped every few meters to inspect the surrounding area for possible booby traps. He examined the area with his infrared goggles, which would detect any laser trip mines. His eyes quickly darted around, wary of any threats around him. He didn't think of looking up for threats from a distance.

The shot rang out like an explosion, and Chavez immediately knew what had happened. He fell to the ground, clutching his leg and screaming in pain. The bullet had torn his leg to shreds, and the pain was unbearable.

Tower began to run to Chavez's aid. Shephard grabbed him and pulled him back into the shadows before he could make himself a target. The sniper wanted them to run onto the dam and expose themselves, so they could be picked off one by one. They would have to play this one carefully.

Shephard gazed out at the dam, trying to ignore Chavez's cries for help. He took on the mindset of a sniper. Where would he want to snipe from? Where would he be able to cover the most area without exposing himself? Shephard's eyes passed over the observation tower looking over the dam and knew that was exactly where he would have been if he was a sniper. He couldn't be sure, but he had to go with his gut instincts.

Shephard turned back to his team. Jones and Jackson were clearly at a loss for what to do next. Tower looked ready to tear the sniper limb from limb, if only he could get his hands on him.

Shephard issued his orders, and his team prepared to make their move.

Shephard ran towards the bridge, darting between cover as best he could. Shephard caught a glimpse of the red dot from the sniper scope as it tracked his progress. He disappeared behind cover as the dot came dangerously close to grazing his body. It had been too close, but he would make it now. He made a hand signal to his team waiting in the shadows behind him.

On cue, Tower opened fire upon the sniper nest with his M-249. At such a long range, the bullets would not hit their mark. But it was enough to distract the sniper while Shephard made his final move. Shephard dashed the final few meters until he was standing within range of the tower, grenade held primed and ready. Shephard tossed the grenade in an arc that met its mark in the center of the tower's opening. He could only imagine the look of surprise on the sniper's face as the grenade landed in his lap. It would not last long, as the tower flashed brilliantly, erupting with a bright flash of smoke as the shrapnel tore through the interior of the tower.

Shephard couldn't be sure if that had been the only sniper in the area, but he would have to take his chances. He would know soon enough if there were any more surprises left. Shephard crept out, quickly covering the remaining distance to crouch beside Chavez where he lay. He looked up to see Tower, Jones, and Jackson running along the dam towards them.

"You're going to make it, Chavez," Shephard assured his wounded comrade.

Jones arrived on the scene and began patching Chavez up. The bullet had split the bone and torn several muscles before exiting his leg. There was nothing Jones could do to repair the damage. All he could hope to do was to stop the bleeding and save Chavez's life.

"Leave me, Corporal," Chavez pleaded as Jones continued working on his leg. "You've got your orders. Stop that bomb and get the hell out of here. I'll only slow you down."

"Chavez, you know I can't do that."

"It's too late to turn back, Adrian!" Chavez shouted. "We don't have time to get out of the bomb's range, and there won't be any more helicopters coming for us. You've got to stop it. If you don't, then we all die here."

Shephard closed his eyes. He knew Chavez was right. They would have to leave him.

"Jones, you stay behind and make sure Chavez stays comfortable. We'll be coming back for you, Chavez."

Chavez nodded and closed his eyes. The adrenaline was wearing off, revealing the true depth of the pain throbbing through his leg. He was grateful that Jones would be here to keep him company. He might just make it out of this after all.

Shephard shared a look with Jackson and Tower. They all understood that they had to leave this place now, lest they lose the bomb's trail. The team shared a few punctual goodbyes and split up. Shephard, Jackson, and Tower reboarded the truck and drove it across the dam, waving a final goodbye to Chavez and Jones.

As the trio disappeared over the horizon, Chavez turned to Jones.

"Think they'll make it in time?"

"God, I hope so. Who would have thought this milk run would turn out like-" Jones stopped, his eyes focusing on something on the far side of the dam.

"What do you see?" Chavez asked, straining to turn himself around to look.

Shephard and his team weren't the only ones following the nuke across the campus. A cluster of alien slaves and grunts emerged from the same shadows the team had approached through. Apparently they had also been tailed, and much like the black ops commandos, had been too focused on their mission to notice. If only they had had radios, they could have warned Shephard up ahead. They would be caught completely off guard, concentrating so much on remaining undetected by the commandos that they would never notice the aliens sneaking up on them.

"Go," Chavez told Jones. "Warn the others. I'll hold them off as long as possible."

"But--"

"GO." Chavez left no room for argument.

Jones groaned and took off, running after Shephard and the rest of the team.

Chavez fired a salvo of MP5 rounds at the approaching swarm of aliens. A few fell to the ground, but the rest continued unabated. A grenade sent several bodies flying over the edges of the dam into the water on both sides. Almost at once, more aliens crowded forward to take their places. They fired back, sending their hornets and bolts of electricity back across the dam.

With great effort and pain, Chavez clambered to a position of better cover that allowed him to fire at the aliens while remaining relatively safe himself. From there he threw everything he had at the approaching masses to no avail. At long last, his MP5 clicked dead, announcing that he had fired his last round. The aliens stopped their approach, sensing the change in the situation.

The aliens approached slowly now, holding their fire as they moved. They knew they had their prey in their clutches now. Chavez retrieved his knife and held it ready. He would not go down without one last fight.

The cluster of aliens swarmed over Chavez like a deadly tide. Chavez screamed as they pulled at him. He could feel their claws tearing through his flesh and digging through his body. Chavez fought back with his knife, but he did little more than make the process slower and more painful for himself. At long last, Chavez lay dead, mutilated beyond recognition. The aliens roared in triumph as they were granted pleasure by their master across space and time.

**Xen**

The Nihilanth appreciated the seriousness of the situation. It was positioning its forces carefully, with a noose positioned around the humans, tightening it slowly. It would not clench its fist all at once, lest a few survivors squirt through its fingers and fulfill their mission of destroying Black Mesa. The destruction of the linking crystal deep below Black Mesa would disrupt the Nihilanth's ability to communicate with its armies and prevent it from sending reinforcements.

Once these stragglers were eliminated, Black Mesa would be in its hands. The Nihilanth could then concentrate on eliminating the pockets of resistance that had somehow made it to Xen, then on expanding its presence on Earth and beginning the colonization. It would all draw to a close soon.


	12. Interlopers

**Black Mesa**

**By Patrick Williams**

Based on the storyline from Half-Life, a game from Valve Software and Sierra Studios. The Half-Life franchise is the property of Sierra Studios. All rights are reserved to Sierra Studios.

**Chapter 12 – Interlopers**

**Xen**

Gina, Gordon, and Colette had yet to encounter the more violent aspects of the Xen ecology. In another time, the trio might have marveled at Xen's beauty. But its beauty was tainted by their knowledge that at the core of this world lay a dark creature that threatened everyone and everything they had ever known or loved back home. Before they would leave this place, they would kill that creature or die trying.

Upon arriving, the trio had immediately spotted the pyramid. It towered over the rest of the landscape, clearly a building of some importance. It made sense that a being as powerful as the Nihilanth should live in such an intimidating structure. They trekked towards their new goal, climbing hills and crossing natural bridges as they went, all the while alert for the first sign of the massive armies they had encountered on Earth.

They climbed one final hill separating them from their goal. The gigantic pyramid was only a few miles away now.

"My God," Gordon exhaled, gazing out at the plains of Xen before them. The pyramid was surrounded by flatland separated from the rest of Xen by a ring of tall hills. Arrayed before them in the flatlands was an army more massive than they could have possibly imagined. Standing in perfect formation were tens of thousands of alien slaves, grunts, and other creatures they had not yet encountered. Gargantuas stood at the edges of the formation, like cavalry, while tremendous four-legged beasts milled about in the rear, like bizarre artillery units. The army surrounded the pyramid on every side, blocking any access.

"How the hell do we get past _them_?" Gina asked no one in particular.

As if to answer her question, a rumbling was felt from all around them. The trio dove for cover, not sure what to expect.

From all sides around the pyramid, jet black Abrams tanks rolled over the tall hills surrounding the flatlands. Black Ops commandos took up positions beside the tanks, setting up machine gun turrets and artillery launchers. Black Humvees equipped with missile launchers maneuvered into firing positions, and flatbed trucks full of troops unloaded their troop loads, ready to charge the alien formations before them.

"Black Ops - here?! What the hell?" Colette exhaled.

"This might be just the diversion we need to get in there." Gordon replied, grimly optimistic.

In the command Humvee, Dekker grabbed the handheld radio. "All units, assume formation Zeta-Bravo and prepare to fire."

The units sounded off, announcing their readiness for battle.

"All units, fire at will. Repeat - fire at will."

The tanks unloaded their shells upon the formations of aliens, sending bodies and pieces of bodies flying in explosions of dirt and yellow blood. The aliens charged the hills and a horrific screech echoed out from the mouths of every creature present. The anger of the Nihilanth had coalesced itself in a painful moment to every soldier in its army, giving them more cause to rush into battle – to end their suffering if for nothing else.

As the tanks continued their barrage, the four-legged creatures in the rear of the formations returned fire. Gigantic balls of electricity erupted from their bellies, arcing through the air towards the tanks and soldiers.

"Voltigore fire – incoming!" a spotter announced over the radio.

Several of the balls of electricity hit their marks, burning commandos to ashes where they stood and exploding ammunition caches within tanks, causing them to burst into flames.

The Humvees and soldiers rushed down the hills towards the remaining alien infantry. The aliens parted to make way for the Gargantuas rushing to greet the humans. The Gargantuas opened fire with their flame throwers, melting metal and flesh as they met their mark. Overhead, Mantas strafed the Black Ops formations, raining down electricity.

Dekker shouted into his radio, "Launch fighters!"

Dekker had a little surprise for the aliens. They had managed to bring several F-35s through the portal to assist them in the battle. These particular F-35s were designed for the Marine Corps, and like the Marine Harriers from the generation before theirs, the F-35s rose vertically from the surface of Xen to fly into battle.

The F-35s flew circles around the slower Mantas, and though they could not establish missile locks to fire, they managed to take care of the alien flyers. The F-35s strafed the columns of Gargantuas, taking a few out and distracting the rest to give the commandos a chance to regroup. Another roar erupted from the alien army. The Nihilanth was not pleased.

From their vantage point atop one of the hills around the Nihilanth's pyramid, Gina, Colette, and Gordon spotted a way through. A gap was forming in the alien ranks. There was no apparent threat from their particular hill, so the aliens were adjusting to compensate for their losses in other directions. It was just the break they were looking for to get past the defenses and into the pyramid.

The trio raced down the hill, hoping to get past the alien ranks without being spotted. Even with their high tech weaponry, they doubted they'd last long against the tremendous force before them. Fortunately for them, the arrival of the F-35s had distracted the aliens, and they were busy forming a new defensive front to face the new threats. The trio managed to reach the pyramid without a single alien spotting them.

They found themselves before a great gate, with no apparent way to open it. Just as they thought about finding another way in, the gate opened as a horde of alien grunts rushed out to provide backup for their dwindling ranks around the pyramid. The aliens failed to notice the three figures crouching in the shadows that leaped through the gate before it shut tight again. The trio had somehow made it into the Nihilanth's compound. Their battle was yet to come.

**Black Mesa Warehouse Complex**

Across space and time, another individual's battle was also upon him. After the battle at the dam, Corporal Adrian Shephard and his remaining team had driven up the coast of the man-made reservoir that fed water to the dam. Just when it seemed that the trail they had followed was growing cold, they spotted the black trucks in the distance, about a half mile ahead of them. The trucks were crossing a bridge over the reservoir, headed towards a warehouse on the far side of the water. Shephard gazed through night-vision binoculars at the caravan as it crossed the bridge. Several commandos jumped off the trucks and began setting up bunkers along the bridge. It would be quite a battle to get across. Shephard had a better idea.

From the back of the truck, Shephard retrieved an inflatable raft. The trio clambered in and set off, hoping there weren't any more snipers around to pick off anyone foolish try to sneak up on them. Shephard figured they were out of visual range to the casual observer.

Under the cover of darkness, the team crossed the reservoir. Just as the boat reached the midpoint of the reservoir, a shape emerged from the water. It looked like a shark fin, only much larger.

"Uh, Corporal?" Jackson asked, apprehensively. "What the hell is that?"

Shephard and Tower glanced over, and their eyes widened instantly. The shape had turned in their direction, and breached the surface for an instant, revealing a gaping mouth of teeth. It looked like some gigantic prehistoric shark – and it looked very hungry.

"Open fire!" Shephard shouted without a second thought.

The three soldiers brought their weapons to bear and fired, all of them painfully aware that their gunfire would reveal their presence to the commandos upstream on the bridge and in the warehouse across the water. None of that mattered to them as they filled the creature with lead. When it finally screeched and died, it slowly sunk to the bottom of the reservoir. As the echo from the screech died down, a new sound could be heard. It was gunfire coming at them from the bridge.

Shephard directed the soldiers to get the boat to shore as quickly as possible. They disembarked the ship and raced towards the warehouse. Bullets from the soldiers on the bridge sent clouds of dirt up all around them as they ran. They didn't stand a chance in the open, but they might stand a chance in close quarters. They reached the doors to the warehouse and burst in, weapons ready.

The warehouse was already abandoned. If they had been expecting a firefight, they were disappointed. The commandos had already come and done their work. Amidst the rows of boxes, in the center of the warehouse, the soldiers found their objective. The nuclear missile sat exposed before them, waiting for its firing mechanism to send its trigger signal. Unlike in bad action movies, there was no dramatic clock counting down the time until it exploded. It could have been rigged to go off in five seconds or five hours. They wouldn't know until it was too late.

Shephard looked to Jackson, who nodded. He had no experience disarming nuclear weapons, but knew that whoever had rigged this missile to blow must have used traditional firing mechanisms common for most bombs and improvised explosive devices. Jackson had yet to come up against an IED he couldn't diffuse. He went to work.

Shephard and Tower felt remarkably helpless. They could not assist Jackson in his work, but knew at any moment the Black Ops commandos would burst in to stop them from disarming the missile. They had gone to such great effort to put it here, and they would not abandon it so easily.

The few seconds that passed before the ambush seemed like an eternity. But the ambush that came was certainly not what they expected.

A figure burst through the warehouse gate, causing Shephard and Tower to whirl, ready to fire.

"Jones? What the hell are you doing here?" Shephard demanded. "What happened to Chavez?"

"Aliens, sir," Jones wheezed, clearly out of breath from his run. "They got Chavez… and they're right behind me."

"How'd you get past the commandos?" Tower asked.

"What commandos? I didn't--"

Jones was interrupted as the windows lining the top of the warehouse exploded inwards, showering the floor in broken glass. The soldiers assumed they were being ambushed by soldiers; that they were shooting out the windows to distract them. They didn't expect the bullets to change direction mid-air and target them.

"Take cover!" Tower shouted, as the soldiers rolled for cover behind boxes. The hornets buried themselves into the rows of boxes.

Jones stood there, dumbfounded.

"Get down, Jones!" Shephard ordered.

Jones slowly reached behind his head, seemed to find what he was looking for, and chuckled before falling to the ground. He was dead, with a hornet deeply imbedded in the back his skull.

"What the hell was that?" Shephard demanded. No weapon he had ever seen could change a bullet's course mid-air.

"It's the aliens, sir."

"Just great," Shephard remarked, not letting his panic show. "Tower, set up your gun to cover Jackson. I'll get your back. Let's get ready for this."

**Xen**

Gordon, Gina, and Colette had entered the pyramid and expected some sort of perverse temple to the Nihilanth's power. Instead, they found themselves in a factory. Larger than any assembly line yet conceived on Earth, it required hundreds of Vortigaunts manning stations around the chamber to supervise the thousands of large pods traveling down conveyer belts in various stages of preparation. They had no idea what was held within the pods, but their importance was readily apparent.

Their presence had not raised any alarms yet. The Vortigaunts around them seemed far too busy manning their posts to pay any attention to the three unexpected visitors that had somehow made it past the battle outside. The factory was running at breakneck speeds, churning out its production at almost dangerous speeds. They were too busy to even notice the entire pyramid shaking from the cacophony of war outside.

The trio carefully navigated their way through the factory floor, dodging pods that raced down the assembly line. Avoiding the workers as best they could, they carefully made their way towards the central core of the plant where they hoped to find a way up to the pinnacle of the structure. They knew implicitly that they would find their target there. However, it seemed that Murphy's Law was universal in nature. As they neared their goal, they saw that the only path to the center of the structure lay beyond a ring of pods identical to those being churned out on assembly lines around them. They had hoped to get through this crowded room without firing a shot, but the only way forward was to slice through the ring of pods. Little did they realize that these pods were more than a mere inconvenience. They were a defensive front.

Gordon picked a pod, aimed his gluon gun, and fired. The pod absorbed the energy from the weapon and combusted, revealing the cargo within.

"Oh God," Gordon muttered.

An alien grunt emerged from within the remains of the pod and a roar erupted throughout the factory. The whistle had been blown.

The alien grunt fired, sending several hornets into Gordon's armor. Gordon could hear the tiny projectiles drilling through his suit, and felt them dig into his skin. He screamed as the drill-like tips gorged through his flesh before finally running out of energy. Had it not been for the hazard suits slowing them down, the hornets would have easily drilled through Gordon's body like swiss cheese. As it was, the pain of the hornets' sting was almost too much to bear. The nano-particles of the hazard suit automatically detected the bleeding and applied tourniquets and bandages as required, and the hornets were expunged from the suit. All of this happened within a single second of the grunt firing.

In the next instant, Gina and Colette had reacted, firing with their gauss guns and slicing the Grunt to shreds. They rushed to Gordon's side and caught him as he stumbled, clearly shaken by the pain. It was fleeting, though, as his suit administered morphine to restore combat effectiveness. Gordon had once imagined that these suits had been designed to go to war with, and he had been right on the money.

Gordon looked out at the factory around them with a new understanding of its purpose. He noticed at one end of the room, Vortigaunts were lined up to step into a device of some kind, with gigantic pods emerging from the opposite end. The machines arrayed around the assembly line increased the Vortigaunts' body mass and applied powerful armor and weaponry. This factory transformed ordinary Xen aliens into powerful creatures to serve in the Nihilanth's army. Their pods could be teleported across space and time into battle at a moment's notice.

Now, pods all around them were erupting, and Grunts emerging to rush into battle. Their way was no longer clear, and it would get worse before it got better. The trio fired out at the clusters of aliens approaching from all sides. They backed their way through a doorway into the central core of the pyramid and welded the door shut behind them. They were in the clear for the moment, but knew their road would get worse before it got better.

Up at the pinnacle of the pyramid, the Nihilanth continued directing the actions of its minions. It now recognized the threat that the three humans posed now. It had watched through the eyes of the Grunt as they had unleashed powerful weapons that rivaled that of its own army. The Nihilanth chastised itself for concentrating too much on the battle outside. It had let these three slip right through its fingers. But they would not make it any farther. The Nihilanth sounded the general alarm throughout the compound. Everyone would be on the lookout for the interlopers now.

**Black Mesa Warehouse Complex**

Wave after wave of the alien horde flung themselves into the fray. Tower and Shephard mowed them down with automatic weapons fire, pausing only briefly and periodically to reload. Behind them, Jackson worked furiously to defuse the bomb. They still had no idea how much time was left, but they knew every second might be their last. It left a palpable sense of tension in the air that was penetrated only by the pure adrenaline of combat.

The aliens came at them like a hive of bees, through every nook and cranny of the building. It didn't take much to mow them down, and the two soldiers had established a decent defensive front. Nonetheless, Shephard desperately wished he had more squad members to cover Jackson. The two of them were doing an adequate job so far, but if just one alien got through, Jackson would be alien chow.

"Uhh, I think I'm done here, Corporal!" Jackson announced hesitantly.

"Cover me, Tower!" Shephard called, as he dashed over to Jackson's side. A quick examination of the nuke confirmed Jackson's diagnosis. The bomb was deactivated.

"Okay guys, let's get the hell out of here!" Shephard shouted. Tower rose from his position and folded the tripod of his M-249 back into the weapon. He never stopped firing at the waves of aliens still rushing through the doors and windows of the building.

The three soldiers clustered together in a triangle formation, each covering 120 degrees around them as they moved towards the warehouse's gate. As an alien burst out from cover to attack, it was mowed down instantaneously. Slowly and deliberately, the team made its way through the rows of boxes.

With the gate just a few feet away, the team noticed something strange. The alien onslaught had stopped. There were no more aliens bursting through the gate before them, no more flying through the windows above them, and no more clawing through the corrugated metal walls around them. Shephard didn't know what to make of this. They had either wiped out all of the aliens, or something bigger was about to greet them.

The warehouse gate slammed shut, causing the three soldiers to instinctively flinch but not break formation. The team was plunged into darkness as the lights switched off. They were too exposed near the gate, painfully far from the protection the rows of boxes might have given. Whatever was about to come, they were certainly not ready for it.

"You've done well, Mister Shephard," a slithery voice announced through the darkness. "You and your men are to be congratulated. Please, don't think my associates and I have been avoiding you. A great many matters require our attention in these troubled times. I do hope you understand. And now I require a further indulgence on your part. I can not close my report until every loose end has been tied up. The biggest embarrassment of this operation has been the Black Mesa Research Facility, but I think that's finally taking care of itself. You see, that bomb was just a diversion. The real bombs are located deep below the surface, far out of your reach I'm afraid. In just a few moments, they will explode, taking all evidence of this debacle with it."

Shephard cursed to himself. He should have known it was too easy, that the real bomb wouldn't have been so easy to track. He had let his team be led on a wild goose chase, and now it was too late.

The man with the snake-like voice continued, "But there is still the lingering matter of witnesses. I must admit, I have a fascination with those who adapt and survive against all odds. They rather remind me of myself, and if no other reason, I have argued to preserve you for a time. While I believe civil servants like yourself understand the importance of… discretion, my employers are not quite so trusting and rather than continually subject you to the irresistible human temptation of telling all, we have decided to convey you somewhere you can do no possible harm. And where no harm can come to you. I'm sure you can imagine there are worse alternatives."

"Screw you! Open fire!" Shephard shouted. Just as the soldiers brought their weapons up to fire, they found themselves unable to move. Something held them back and kept their muscles from responding.

"Yes, you three will be most useful to my employers. I will see you up ahead…"

The strange energy field holding them in place began to increase in intensity, sending a tingling sensation across their bodies. In a flash, they disappeared.

**Xen**

Gordon, Gina, and Colette rode the elevator up through the center of massive the pyramid. It ascended quickly, but still was taking quite some time to reach the top. The pyramid must have been several miles tall.

After several minutes, the elevator stopped before a tremendous portal. With an army of angry aliens below them, there was no other way to go but through it. With no idea what to expect, the trio took a leap of faith.

The trio emerged in a cavernous room. It was an arena of sorts, with what looked like hundreds of thousands of seats arrayed around it. The seats were empty now. Gordon somehow knew he had been in this room before, when he had first visited Xen.

They could feel the presence of the Nihilanth even before they gazed up and saw it. The Nihilanth hovered above them, intimidating in both size and power. The Nihilanth's massive cerebrum dominated its body architecture, containing a brain capable of guiding the actions of entire armies. It reminded them of the alien controllers they had fought, as they too could fly and had large brain cavities. Gordon wondered if there was a connection, but his thoughts were interrupted before he could take them too far.

_You are the Free Man._

The words were not spoken so much as understood, and they appeared in their heads as if they were their own thoughts. But clearly the Nihilanth was speaking to them.

"I'm Gordon Freeman. I'm the one responsible for this mess, and I'm here to clean it up!" Gordon shouted up at the hovering behemoth.

Behind him, Gina and Colette began to laugh. Gordon turned and glared, but realized their laughter was just an expression through the Nihilanth. Gordon too felt the urge to laugh, but resisted. The power wielded by the Nihilanth was great indeed.

Gordon raised his gluon gun and fired. The energy arced towards the Nihilanth but splashed aside against a powerful orange energy field emanating from several crystals around the ceiling.

Gordon activated his communicator and spoke to Gina and Colette privately, hoping the Nihilanth could not read his thoughts. "You two, get up there and destroy those crystals. I think I know a way to keep the Nihilanth's attention on me."

"Let these two go!" Gordon shouted up again. "I'm the one that started this!"

Gina and Colette disappeared into the shadows.

_Pitiful human.__ You bark with such ferocity, but can't even deliver a scratch upon me._

"Pitiful? We've slaughtered your army at every bend, and even now your army is fighting a losing battle outside this tower."

_The battle outside is a minor annoyance. I have summoned a new, more powerful force to deal with them. That meddler's forces are but a minor distraction. I am the most powerful being in the multiverse, and you too will distract me no longer._

"If you're really the most powerful being in the multiverse, tell me this – why are you wearing chains about your wrists?"

The Nihilanth looked down at its wrists. The massive arm bands that had once imprisoned it were a painful reminder of its past.

_Foolish human! Do you think anyone could imprison me? I serve no master!_

"So you say. But how do you know your actions now aren't serving some higher purpose? Whoever put those chains on was powerful enough to make you what you are. What if you're still just their pawn?"

_Fallacy! You do not know what you speak of. I am no longer anyone's pawn. I am the one that controls the pieces now!_

Gordon knew he had struck a nerve. Whatever had put those chains on the Nihilanth had left deeper scars as well. "Your emotions reveal much!" Gordon taunted. "They show me that you resent your former captors. Tell me, are they still out there?"

_It matters not. All that matters is that I wield the power now. I decide which worlds to subjugate and which to destroy. I decide who lives and who dies. And you, foolish human, will die for your insolence!_

"That's it, isn't it? You were once just a lowly controller, but you were given a powerful gift, and you used it to escape from their control. Your captors are still out there, biding their time. They're letting you go on your little crusades, conquering worlds as you please. They're letting you do their dirty work for them. Do you think they forgot about you? Do you think they would just let you go?"

_They let me go because I became too powerful for even them to control. And they will rue the day they face me again! Just as you will now!_

The Nihilanth unleashed a furious attack. Tremendous orbs of orange energy rained down upon Gordon. He dove behind an outcropping of rock and the energy splashed off harmlessly.

"Yes, you do wield power!" Gordon called. "But I think you've become too content with it. You're losing your control. How else would three lowly humans infiltrate your fortress and get this far? Even if you kill me now, your army will see that you're losing your control over them. What if they fight back?"

_They know I am their master! They can not resist me!_

"Just like you couldn't resist your own masters!" Gordon shouted. "Face it! Your time is up!"

As if on cue, several explosions ripped through the cavern. Gina and Colette called through the communicator. "That's it, Gordon! The crystals are destroyed!" The two had climbed and jumped up several platforms to get to a level where they could destroy the crystals. Now they looked down upon the Nihilanth from a perfect vantage point to fire straight down into its skull.

"Kill the bastard." Gordon replied, coldly.

The three scientists unleashed their weapons upon the Nihilanth. Gina's and Colette's gauss guns sliced through the tender flesh surrounding its skull, and Gordon's gluon gun pecked away at its thick skin. The Nihilanth roared in fury, an emotion shared with every minion in its army.

The Nihilanth unleashed every weapon in its personal arsenal. Orbs of energy erupted in every direction, and Gordon dove behind cover again. He looked up and saw that Gina and Colette were far too exposed from their platforms. Several of the orbs circled them like vultures and moved in for the kill. With a flash, they disappeared.

"No!" Gordon shouted. He fired his gluon gun up at the Nihilanth's head, peeling away at the skin already sliced up by the gauss guns. Their combined assault had severely weakened the Nihilanth, and Gordon knew he had the creature on the ropes. Orange energy shone through cracks in the Nihilanth's thick cerebrum. With its weak point revealed, Gordon now knew what he had to do.

Gordon climbed up the rock outcroppings around the arena, dodging orbs thrown by the Nihilanth as he went. Nothing would deter him now with the end in sight. Up and up he climbed, getting ever closer to the optimum angle he needed. At long last, Gordon looked out upon the Nihilanth and saw his opening.

Gordon fired the gluon gun straight into the Nihilanth's skull. The force of the nearly point blank shot was too much. The massive cerebrum opened forth like a blossoming rose, revealing the true power within. Like a miniature sun, the source of the Nihilanth's power shone out, illuminating the chamber. Gordon's suit automatically tinted to protect his eyes from the glare, and he continued firing his gluon gun straight into the heart of the Nihilanth's brain stem. The dark energy emanating from within proved to be sensitive to the destructive force of the gluon gun.

In a blinding flash, the energy within the Nihilanth's cerebrum exploded, sending arcs of electricity throughout the chamber. Gordon knew the energy he had just released would probably take the entire pyramid with it. He had sealed his fate. But it was worth it. He had saved the entire world.

_How is this possible?! You insignificant little worm!_

The Nihilanth began to spin through the air in fury and agony. The pain from the energy erupting through its head must have been ferocious.

_You have only delayed the inevitable. With my death, you have doomed your own world. You will never be rid of my armies!_

The Nihilanth summoned what little power it had left to send its minions to Earth in full force. Outside the pyramid, the Black Ops commandos stopped in their tracks as the armies they had been fighting moments before vanished. The Nihilanth's final act was to send a distress signal to its former masters. The human had been correct. There were greater powers in the multiverse, albeit hidden from plain view. If the Nihilanth's signal got through, these humans would witness their strength first hand.

The Nihilanth gave a final roar and combusted, sending orbs of energy throughout the chamber. Gordon braced himself to be torn to shreds by the explosion.

Gordon lowered his arms and looked around him. He was standing outside, on one of Xen's many floating islands. Another figure stood before him, adorned in an immaculate gray suit. The man adjusted his tie.

"Gordon Freeman, in the flesh. Or rather, in the hazard suit." the man in the suit spoke, and Gordon instantly recognized this as the man who had led the Black Ops commandos in the garage. "I took the liberty of removing your weapons. Most of them were government property anyway. As for the suit, well, I think you've earned it. The borderworld, Xen, is in our control for the time being, thanks to you. Quite a nasty piece of work you managed over there. I am impressed. My associates have been watching your every move, and you have passed every test with flying colors. They agree with me that you have limitless potential."

"Your associates? How have you been watching me?"

The man smirked ever so slightly. "You've met two of my associates. Miss Green and Miss Cross think most highly of you. It was… unfortunate that I had to put them at such great risk, but I think the results speak for themselves. My employers have received their report on your actions, and Miss Green and Miss Cross are looking forward to working with you again."

Gordon breathed a sigh of relief upon the realization that his two friends had not died during the battle. But were they really his friends? Had they really been moles all along? "Why did they do it? Did they go through all of this just to watch me?"

"You have a great deal of questions, and all of them will be answered in time. That's why I'm here, Mister Freeman. I have recommended your services to my employers, and they have authorized me to offer you a job."

Gordon was taken aback. This entire ordeal had been one elaborate job interview! He didn't know what to think anymore. How much of the past few days' events had really been necessary? Surely the battle with the Nihilanth must have been for a greater purpose. Were the man's employers the ones who had once imprisoned the Nihilanth? Had he been sent to exact their revenge? Questions whirled through Gordon's mind, but he would not have time to ask them.

"You have proven yourself a decisive man, so I don't expect you'll have any trouble deciding what to do," the man continued. "If you're interested, step into the portal and I will take that as a yes. Otherwise, well… I can offer you a battle that you have no chance of winning. Rather an anticlimax, after what you've just survived."

"What about my other friends?"

"Those that survived have only delayed the inevitable. The battle at Black Mesa is but a taste of things to come. The Nihilanth has triggered a chain of events that do not bode well for them, I'm afraid. The years to come will not be easy for anyone. The survivors are free to go, of course, but many of them will wish they had died at Black Mesa. There is nothing you can do to change what is to come. All that is left to decide is on which side you stand."

Gordon's mind whirled with even more questions. What events had the Nihilanth set into motion? Did this mean Earth was still being invaded? How could it be any worse than what they had faced here?

Gordon opened his mouth to speak, but was interrupted preemptively. "There is no time for questions. It's time to choose. Step into the portal and you will find your answers."

Gordon knew he had no choice. He stepped forward and disappeared into the portal.

"Well done, Mister Freeman! I will see you up ahead…"


End file.
